Lorien Legacies: Untold
by AfterDaybreak
Summary: "We may not belong on Earth but we're sure as hell gonna save it." The Mogadorians are coming, and their intentions are far from peaceful. After twelve years of hiding among the humans, the seven, teenage Garde must find each other and they must fight, because the survival of Earth lies in their hands. Extended summary inside. Novel universe. (Adam X OC).
1. Extended Summary

❝ _I don't remember much...but I do remember it being beautiful._ ❞

Lorien was a paradise.

It was a planet of beauty and life and equilibrium, inhabited by the most wondrous of creatures. One such being the Loric people.

The Loric were peaceful, humanoid beings, living in harmony with the planet and it's few other inhabitants. In return, Lorien gifted some of the Loric with extraordinary abilities. The Loric Garde were those who developed these Legacies, and the Loric Cêpan were those who did not. The Legacies were intended to defend Lorien, but they were not enough to stop the Mogadorians, a race of ruthless beings, when they invaded Lorien for the planet's resources.

Upon Lorien's imminent destruction, nine Garde and their Cêpan protectors were chosen by the Loric Elders to escape to Earth. They would be hunted by the Mogadorians, so the Elders gave each Garde an Inheritance, a pendant, and a number that corresponded to the pendant, then placed a Charm over them. The Charm allowed the Garde to only be killed in order of their given numbers, but would be permanently void if any of them were to come into contact with each other. The only physical evidence of it's presence was a scar on each Garde's left ankle.

So the last remaining Loric escaped to Earth where they lived in secret among the humans. They trained for years, awaiting the day the Mogadorians would arrive and the hunt would begin.

After seven years, One was found and killed in Malaysia. A scar burned onto each Garde's right ankle as indication of her death.

Four years later, a second scar was added to the count when Two was killed in Russia.

Now they hunt Three.

❝ _I know I'm next_ — _I know they're coming for me._ ❞

Three is the next in line to be killed by the Mogadorians. He's scared, but he's developed his first Legacy and has been practicing his telekinesis for over a year. He's ready and he's not going down without a fight.

❝ _They're heartless, merciless beasts. And I'm going to make them pay for what they've done._ ❞

The Mogadorians have taken everything from Six—her home, her people, her parents, and now her Cêpan. But they have given her hatred. And her hatred fuels her determination and shapes her into the warrior she is. And now she's going to kill every one of them.

❝ _I am unlike my kin. I feel emotion, and I know our actions are terrible and I am sorry. I want_ _to_ _help you._ ❞

Adamus Sutekh is the Trueborn son of Mogadorian General Andrakkus Sutekh. He is different from his people as he allows himself to feel emotions. He is a disappointment because he feels sadness and joy and misery and everything in-between. Remorse for the treatment of the Loric, anger for the murder of Two, hope for a better future and perhaps even love for the most unlikely person.

❝ _They're coming. And they're going to destroy everything unless we do something about it._ ❞

The Mogadorian's fleet is on it's way. They intend to conquer Earth as they did Lorien.

But the Garde will train harder than before—harder than ever. They will prepare for a battle they have little chance of winning and they will fight with everything they have.

Because they cannot lose anything else to the Mogadorians.

They cannot lose Earth.

* * *

 **CAST**

Thomas Brodie Sangster as **Three "Tom"**

Connor Jessup as **Four**

Aiyana Lewis as **Five "Saffron"**

Camren Bicondova as **Six**

Rhys Matthew Bond as **Seven "Liam"**

Kara Hayward as **Eight "Maya"**

Ludi Lin as **Nine**

Adrianne Palicki as **Valerie**

Dan Stevens as **Ben**

Yvonne Strahovski as **Hannah**

Bradley Cooper as **Alec**

Brandon Logie as **Adamus "Adam" Sutekh**

(imagine him ˆˆˆˆ with paler skin and darker hair and eyes)

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE / DISCLAIMER**

Rated T for:

\- Swear words

\- Scenes of graphic violence

\- Some sexual activity (kissing scenes)

Everything in this story is fictional.

This story is based off the _Lorien Legacies_ novels by Pittacus Lore, but **I do not own** ** _Lorien Legacies_** **or** ** _Lorien Legacies_** **'s characters/plot!**

My story is—in short—a rewrite of the series with my own characters and plot thrown in. I've retained most of the information and some pieces of the plot from the novels as background information/history and such. I'm aware my versions of Six, Nine and Adamus are very similar to how they're portrayed in the novels. That's because I loved them and wanted to keep them similar, but they are also different in many ways so they're not exact copies.

Also, if anyone notices any spelling or grammar mistakes throughout my story I would appreciate it so much if you'd mention it in the comments so I can fix it :)

Aaaaaand if anyone would like to make me a prettier cover, I would appreciate it very much!

This story is also available on my Quotev and Wattpad account if you'd like to view it there as well :)

* * *

Thanks so much for checking out my story! I hope you all enjoy it!


	2. Trailer

So I made a trailer!

* * *

You can view the official trailer for _Lorien Legacies: Untold_ at this link [ (youtu).(be)/siaMFOy0OEg ]

* * *

To use the link just remove the brackets and parentheses and type it into your address bar, or look up my youtube channel (AfterDaybreak) it'll be the only video on it lmao

It's my first time ever making anything like this so obviously I'm not going to be very good at it lol it is not going to be like an _Avengers_ movie trailer. I just took a bunch of scenes from movies/shows the cast members from the previous page are in. I must've downloaded like thirty youtube videos just for like a four-second scene from each of them, then I had to crop a lot of them so the video quality isn't the best lol I spent three days working on it and I did my best so don't hate haha it's just a fun little project, I had fun making it and I hope you guys enjoy it!

BUT if anyone DOES happen to like it and would like a trailer for their story, just PM me and I'll see if I can manage it (no charge). This goes for book covers, posters, banners etc. just in case anyone likes what I make lmao


	3. - prologue -

\- – § – -

He creeps into the media room as anonymously as he can manage. He keeps his head down and his footsteps quiet, praying the other Mogadorians will take no notice. A General's son has no place in a media room. Especially him. But that doesn't stop him; he has to check.

Silently, he slides into a free chair in the darkest corner of the media room and nudges the power cord from the wall socket with his boot, then pushes the computer's on button. The screen stays black, and he pushes it again. The screen displays nothing. He stands from his seat and leans forward over the computer, fiddling with the cords connected to the device's back while slipping a tiny cloaking chip into a slot. While settling back into his seat, he presses his boot against the cord to push it back in place. He pushes the on button again, and this time, the screen lights up.

He enters the day's password and opens the ongoing report the Mogadorians in the very same room currently work on.

* * *

 **LORIC STATUS:**

* * *

ONE

DECEASED

Chest ... Acquired

Pendant ... Acquired

Legacies–unknown

Last Location–Kuala Bera, Malaysia

Appearance–female, five feet and one inch tall, light skin, golden yellow wavy seventeen inch hair, brown eyes, young

HUNT REPORT: [ENTER CLEARANCE CODE]

CÊPAN

DECEASED

* * *

UNKNOWN GARDE

ALIVE

Chest ... Not Acquired

Pendant ... Not Acquired

Legacies–telekinesis, accelix (uncertain)

Last Location–Mesa Blanca, Mexico

Appearance–male (uncertain), five feet and ten inches tall, light skin, light brown male hair, teen

HUNT REPORT UNAVAILABLE

INCIDENT REPORT: [ENTER CLEARANCE CODE]

CÊPAN

DECEASED

* * *

UNKNOWN GARDE

ALIVE

Chest ... Not Acquired

Pendant ... Not Acquired

Legacies–telekinesis, submari

Last Location-Lake Powell, Arizona

Appearance–female, five feet and six inches tall, dark brown skin, curly black eighteen inch hair

HUNT REPORT UNAVAILABLE

CÊPAN

ALIVE (uncertain)

* * *

UNKNOWN GARDE

ALIVE

Chest ... Not Acquired

Pendant ... Not Acquired

Legacies–unknown

Last Location–Skoura, Morocco

Appearance–female, five feet and two inches tall, light brown skin, brown wavy twelve inch hair, teen

HUNT REPORT UNAVAILABLE

CÊPAN

DECEASED (uncertain)

* * *

UNKNOWN GARDE

ALIVE

Chest ... Not Acquired

Pendant ... Not Acquired

Legacies–unknown

Last Location–Europe (uncertain)

Appearance–male (uncertain)

HUNT REPORT UNAVAILABLE

CÊPAN

ALIVE (uncertain)

* * *

UNKNOWN GARDE

ALIVE

Chest ... Not Acquired

Pendant ... Not Acquired

Legacies–unknown

Last Location-unknown

Appearance–unknown

HUNT REPORT UNAVAILABLE

CÊPAN

ALIVE (uncertain)

* * *

UNKNOWN GARDE

ALIVE

Chest ... Not Acquired

Pendant ... Not Acquired

Legacies–unknown

Last Location-unknown

Appearance–unknown

HUNT REPORT UNAVAILABLE

CÊPAN

ALIVE (uncertain)

* * *

UNKNOWN GARDE

ALIVE

Chest ... Not Acquired

Pendant ... Not Acquired

Legacies–unknown

Last Location-unknown

Appearance–unknown

HUNT REPORT UNAVAILABLE

CÊPAN

ALIVE (uncertain)

* * *

UNKNOWN GARDE

ALIVE

Chest ... Not Acquired

Pendant ... Not Acquired

Legacies–unknown

Last Location-unknown

Appearance–unknown

HUNT REPORT UNAVAILABLE

CÊPAN

ALIVE (uncertain)

* * *

He clicks on One's Hunt Report and enters the clearance code he memorized earlier. After a moment, the screen refreshes and displays a photograph of a hand written document. He scans the three, short paragraphs for anything he doesn't remember from that day three years ago. But he finds nothing out of the ordinary. Except...there. At the bottom...

 _"Solider Kal-Ra reported the target's protector was impaled through the upper right pectoral by his blade and left to die. The hut she was left in was set aflame before I was able to confirm the death of the protector."_

An unconfirmed death. There are _never_ unconfirmed deaths in Hunt Reports, and there especially should not be one in a _Loric_ Hunt Report. He can hardly believe his father, Setrákus Ra's most able General, has an unconfirmed death in one of his reports. And yet, in the ongoing Loric Status Report, the Cêpan's status reads deceased, not uncertain. That means it must be intentionally covered. Though he decides such an assumption is not entirely unrealistic, as there's little hope for survival if one has been both impaled and left inside a burning building. Though if the Cêpan's death is unconfirmed the report should be labelled uncertain.

He exits the file and enters the required clearance code for the Incident Report filed under an unknown Garde. The report is written by a Mogadorian solider that had barely survived the incident. He writes that they had captured the Loric protector and contained her within a vehicle when the lead transport that had been carrying her went out of control and rolled, causing the rest of them to crash. The soldier had crawled out of the vehicle just before one of the vehicle's gas tanks exploded and created a chain reaction among the others. He saw the Garde running at an incredible speed toward the wreckage, and managed to see him clearly before falling unconscious from his wounds. The Mogadorian is lucky to have survived, as all the other soldiers were found dead when an aid team arrived. Though the Cêpan's body was reported never found, and it's assumed the Garde took her body from the wreckage.

...Another unconfirmed death recorded as confirmed. Setrákus Ra must be afraid of something.

The Mogadorian shifts in his seat restlessly. Quickly, he exits the Incident Report, then the Status Report. He enters more clearance codes, ones he spent months to attain, and then he's in the restricted communication lines between Mogadorian Earth bases and the _Anubis,_ lead vessel of the Mogadorian Fleet.

He scans the messages, decoding them as fast as he can manage. His heart rate increases with each word, each sentence. And after five minutes of reading everything he can, he exits the comm line before his signal can be traced to the computer he uses. Without hesitation, he opens a disguised program provided by the cloaking chip he designed, scrolls through the coding, and inputs a date two months from now. He begins the countdown.

Now, he has two months to escape. Two months to learn everything he can, sabotage as many functions manageable and plan his escape. Two months. Two months for the Mogadorians to find him out if he is not careful.

Two months is not enough time for him, but now, the Loric may not have two months. So he must hurry if he wishes to save them.

Because Setrákus Ra is on his way. And with him, an army.

The Loric's only hope is to stop the Mogadorian leader before he reaches the Earth's surface. And now _he_ is the Loric's only hope.

He shuts off the computer, stands from his seat, and exits the media room.

He can find them. They might still be alive, and he can find them. He might even be able to _save_ them.

He can do it. He knows everything they know and he can use this knowledge to help the Loric.

He just has to escape first.

So he must be quick, cautious, and smart.

He must succeed.

Because without him, the Loric are doomed.

Without him, Earth will fall just as Lorien has.

\- – § – -

 **AN: So I decided that because I pushed the release date back another month I should put a little teaser up! It's written in third person because I wanted it to be kinda different from the rest of the story that's gonna be written in first person. And I'm not very accustomed to writing in present tense, so there'll probably be some errors. I still haven't finished planning out the whole story, so updates are probably gonna be coming kinda slow until I figure the rest of it out. Also, just a warning to any potential readers, I've been stuck with this ridiculous writer's block for legit three months or so, and it's like no matter how long I stare at the words on my computer I just** ** _can't write anything_** **. So I'm still trying to get over that, and I don't want to be putting up shitty chapters so yeah, updates are gonna be slow, and I apologize in advance for that.**

 **How long would you guys like the chapters to be? I usually write between 1000 - 2000 words per chapter, sometimes up to 3000 but rarely less than 1000. To give you guys an idea, this chapter was 1132 words. Anyways, please leave a review letting me know! :)**

 **I'd also really like to know what you guys thought of the prologue! Please leave me a review if you enjoyed it! I'd love some feedback and I'm totally open to suggestions toward my writing, my story or anything else!**

 **And if you have any questions or anything else, feel free to leave a review and I'll reply as best I can! Though be aware that if you do not have a Fanfiction account and you're posting a review as a Guest I cannot send a reply directly to you and I'll have to answer your question by putting the answer in the next chapter's author's note :)**


	4. Part One: The Loric

**Part One**

\- – § – -

 _The Loric_

\- – § – -

ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏsᴛ ᴏɴᴇs

ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʀᴏᴀᴍ

* * *

I also made a banner! Because I love making stuff!

(www).(flickr).com(/)photos/133249069(a)N02/40017728615

to use the link remove the brackets and replace the (a) with the at sign

or just go to my Flickr account (AfterDaybreak) and you should find it in my photostream

or go to Flickr and search for LL_ U The Loric (P1)

or go to my Wattpad or Quotev account (both AfterDaybreak) to access Lorien Legacies: Untold and find the chapter/part labelled Part One: The Loric


	5. - 1 -

6

* * *

"What an idiot," I mutter distastefully. Quiver ruffles her feathers, caws her agreement. Her wings flare and brush my cheek as I shift my position on the tree branch, trying to get a better angle of the situation that's displayed before us.

We finally pinpointed the Mogadorian encampment only an hour ago while navigating the woods. Quiver having heard its clamour far before laying eyes on it. The pale bastards have been trying to find us for the past two weeks. Little do they know that _they_ were the ones being tracked. They led us right to their base, and right to their recently captured prisoner, who can quite possibly be one of us. I can hardly wait to kill some Mogs and save the dumbass so I can yell at them for being so stupid.

I scan the bustling camp with a triumphant smirk. _It's sure as hell nice not being the hunted for once._

Quiver cocks her head at me, blinking her shining eyes. «What are you thinking?»

"I like playing the hunter."

\- – § – -

Deciding it's best we attack under the cover of darkness, Quiver and I anxiously await the last traces of sunlight to disappear below the horizon before moving into position. Until then, we watch the Mogadorian camp for any new developments that might interfere with our plan. But aside from the Mogs transferring the bound prisoner from one stake to another, nothing happens.

«The light's disappearing,» Quiver warns. I nod, keeping my gaze on the barely-visible camp and lifting my fist up to my shoulder. Her wings beat at the air, hopping onto my forearm.

"Try something less conspicuous," I advise, deciding the beautiful, dark brown and stark white checkered feathers to be too noticeable against the night sky. I sense her reluctance in changing from her gyrfalcon form. But still, the Chimæra shifts into a smaller hawk with dark brown feathers. I recognize her as the bird we saw a few days ago, perched in the branches above a swamp. _Smart to use a native bird._ "Let me know about any new developments," I say, running a finger down her smooth neck. She leans into my touch with a satisfied coo.

«Of course. Be careful, Six.»

I clench my jaw and disregard her words. "We'll be fine," I insist stiffly, my voice somehow sounding much calmer than I feel. With that, I swing my arm out to give her a boost as she takes off into the sky with almost-soundless wingbeats. I watch her glide away for a moment, then begin my descent down the tree I've been sitting in almost all day. Thankfully, the half moon's light illuminates just enough to ensure safe navigation of the treacherous, Louisianan wetlands. I feel strange and lonely without Quiver resting on my shoulder. But I keep my silent footsteps confident and unfaltering, pushing the multitude of incessant worries to the furthest and darkest corner of my mind. I can't afford to make any mistakes—not anymore.

I run through the plan again and again while sneaking through the bush surrounding the clearing the hastily-built camp resides in. _This would be so much easier if I actually had a useful Legacy,_ I think angrily. _It's not like animal telepathy's gonna kill anything._

«They're moving the prisoner,» Quiver announces, her presence filling my head as her voice rings softly in my ear.

 _Shit._ «Where to?» I keep moving toward my position, praying this won't screw up the plan.

«Towards the centre.»

 _Shit shit shit._ I start moving faster, using my telekinesis to soften my footsteps.

«Six, it looks like they're going to eat him!»

«What!?» The words just about escape my lips. «Is my entrance still clear?»

«Yes. Most of them are gathering around the fire. Six, they're tying him to a spit right now. If he's human or number Three, he'll die.»

I grit my teeth and run faster. «I know! I'm hurrying! It's not like I have a freaking soundless Legacy!» The sound of Mogadorians cheering and yelling in their rough, guttural language reaches my ears as I near the camp.

«He's over the fire, Six.» Her worry is beginning to gradually cloud my mind despite my attempts to ward it away. «If we save him and he's a Garde, we'll break the Charm. But if we don't and he's human, he'll die.»

«Well do something then! Can't you shit on one of them!?»

I can almost feel her wings falter at my idea. «That is vile!»

«So is cooking someone over a fire!» I slow my pace as I get closer and closer, the Mogadorians growing louder and louder.

Quiver ignores my statement. «Are you in position?»

I move tree branches and brush aside with my telekinesis as I inch forward. «Almost. Am I still clear?»

«Yes. There is one sentry coming from the south and seven others spaced along the perimeter armed with cannons. All others are at the fire.»

«Good.» I exit the trees and crouch down to take cover in the bushes and tall grass. «How's the rotisserie doing?»

«That's not funny, Six. He is not burning yet.» Despite the stressful moment, I still find myself grinning at my own cruel joke. Catching sight of the Mogadorian sentry, I move slower.

«Get ready,» I say, preparing to strike, «I'm engaging.» I telekinetically sway a patch of untrodden grass inside the camp to catch his attention. The Mog lifts the blaster to his shoulder and spins immediately, his gaze swinging around the camp's interior for any further movement. With his back to me, I get to my feet and lurch forward. I clamp one hand across his mouth, stifling his yells, while wrenching the cannon from his grasp with invisible hands and slamming it into his temple. The Mog's body slackens, immediately dropping to the ground. I snatch the weapon suspended in the air and fire it at his chest. The horrid gun turns the grass grey as it powers up, drawing life from its surroundings to fire a deadly ray of light at the Mog's face, resulting in the repulsive smell of burnt flesh before he disintegrates into ashes. I turn and rush to the next sentry.

«One down. Status?»

«Three down,» Quiver replies. «Now four.» I grin, the thrill of battle taking hold as I run the perimeter, nearing the second sentry. Oblivious to my approach, the Mogadorian walks idly with his blaster hanging at his side. The roaring of the other Mogs as they roast their prisoner alive drowns out his cry of surprise when I slam my foot into the back of his knees, causing him to fall forward and drop his weapons. I raise my blaster and fire twice at his back until he crumbles to grey ash.

«Two.» I toss the disgusting weapon aside.

«Five,» she answers. «I'll take care of the last one, you move into position.» I can hardly contain my excitement as I make my way toward the middle of the camp, navigating the stacks of crates and rows of tents as quickly as possible, praying that stupid prisoner is protected by the Charm.

The cheers get louder, and among them, an enraged American voice speaking English and spewing curses as if it's a language itself.

"I swear to fuck if you pale-ass dickheads don't get me the _fuck_ off this goddamn stick I'll kick your asses into the next fucking century!"

A grin takes over my face and I press my back against a rickety wooden shed not far from the gathered Mogadorians and their fire. _I like this guy._ I peer around the corner of the structure, getting a good look at the size of the crowd and the prisoner, wearing only a pair of red swimming shorts and rotating slowly on a spit above the leaping flames. A blindfold rests across his face, and his hands and feet are bound to the large stick with huge metal cuffs. _He_ must _be a Garde. The Mogs wouldn't be that careful with a normal human._

«I'm in position,» Quiver announces.

«Good,» I say, flexing my fingers in anticipation. «Then let's kick some Mogadorian ass.»

\- – § – -

 **AN: Sorry guys! That took a little longer to write than I expected and I know it's hella short. But it's finally out and I'm excited to hear what you guys thought of it! So please leave a review! :)**

 **I also added a playlist to the beginning of the story if anyone is interested in checking it out or leaving any song suggestions!**

 **EDIT: So apparently my little chevrons/angled brackets don't appear on FanFiction! They're supposed to replace the quotation marks around Quiver's and Six's communication but they never appeared so I'm gonna have to improvise and use these « » instead. Damn it! That's annoying!**


	6. - 2 -

𝟼

* * *

I rip a blaster from the grasp of a Mogadorian, using my telekinesis to bring it to my own hands. He turns and snarls at me, managing to shout something in their guttural language before I hit him in the face with a deadly blast of light. Every Mog in the camp turns their attention from the roasting teenager to me.

«Now.» Instantly, a huge whale-like creature with odd spikes protruding from its skin drops from the sky and lands on a large portion of the Mogs, hopefully killing them. The rest jump into action, hoisting up their blasters and spinning to fire at Quiver, but not before she morphs into a tiny insect and flies off. They're yelling now, angrily searching for their lost target. A perfect moment.

Boosting myself with telekinesis, I jump to the top of the shed and begin firing at the backs of the turned Mogadorians. Quickly, they drop like logs and crumble to piles of dark ash. And that's when Quiver reappears as a towering wolf, tearing through the soldiers and effectively drawing their attention back to her so I can pick off the Mogs that might have a clear shot at her. The prisoner is yelling like crazy, but it's impossible to make out his words over the cacophony of battle.

«Six! Save the prisoner!»

«He's fine!» I argue, kneeling on the roof to prob my elbow on my knee and steady my shots. «He's obviously a Garde considering he's not on fire yet.»

«So you're going to leave him there!?» She snaps a Mog in between her teeth, causing it to crumble to ash inside her mouth. I grimace, trying not to focus on how much nasty Mog shit she's eating.

«Why not?» I keep firing my blaster, and Quiver somehow manages to shoot me her trademark mom-glare in between chomping the Mogs. I glare back but she's already returning to the battle. «Fine.» I hunker down further to avoid getting shot at by the few Mogs that still recognize my presence, only peeking above the edge of the roof enough to see my target across the battle zone.

He's yelling and thrashing like a child in a timeout and I can't help but think that if he really is a Garde I might just kill him myself for being such an embarrassment to our kind. I reach an invisible force out, latching on to either end of the spit he's tied to and lifting. _Holy shit he's heavy_. I grit my teeth and power through the strain, continuing to lift him. He starts thrashing and yelling some more, which makes it even worse, so I slam my telekinesis into his temple and knock him out. _That's better_.

«Six! What did you do!?»

Blaster fire sizzles over my head and I slide down lower on the roof, struggling to keep my grip on the stupid boy. «I just knocked the idiot out, don't worry.»

«He can't defend himself now!»

«He couldn't before, so what's the difference?» She doesn't respond, but her silence is enough. I focus solely on the unconscious boy, floating him carefully around the perimeter of the battle while watching out for any stray blaster fire. If he gets hit, Quiver will kill me. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a Mog lifting his blaster to focus on the prisoner I'm attempting to steal discreetly.

 _God damn it._

Without a thought, I promptly ram one end of the spit into the soldier's eye. He yells and drops his gun before crumbling to grey ash.

«Hurry!» She urges.

«I'm working on it! This bastard's heavy!» _And he was all the way across the fucking camp!_ A sharp, canine cry cuts through the air and I know instantly it's her. I drop the stupid guy and spin, lifting my Mog blaster and taking aim, quickly and efficiently picking off the bastard aliens that managed to land a shot on her stomach. The wound burned a circle in her fur, exposing raw pink skin blackened with soot.

«I'm fine,» she insists, launching back into action. I spare a moment to grasp the unconscious guy once more, wrenching him onto the roof beside me in a final, demanding tug through the air. He's covered in Mogadorian ash and reeks of sweat and smoke, but at least that means I'll notice his absence if one of the alien bastards steals him from me.

My heart is thundering and my blood is rushing with the thrill of the battle scene before me. I'm glad to finally be killing them, to be fighting back and fighting for my revenge. It's a nice change of pace. But we can't kill all of them. The Mogadorians are quickly falling to piles of ashes beneath my fire and Quiver's teeth and claws, and though I ache to be on the ground, personally killing each one of them, I have to stay and watch the prisoner on the roof.

«Leave some alive,» I advise. «Otherwise we'll be blind.»

«I know.»

My shot grazes the arm of a Mog soldier, and he turns to glare at me with bared teeth and blazing eyes.

"Shit." I squeeze off more shots but he's fast and somehow manages to evade them. _Bastard_. «I got a good one,» I announce. «Don't kill him.» The tattoos on his head and his skills in combat hint that he's probably a higher rank than the other Mogs. Dodging my shots, he lifts his own gun and begins returning fire. With a curse, I slide lower on the roof and scan my surroundings for another alternative.

«Do you want me to–?»

«Nope!» I pick a crate off a stack of supplies and lift it high into the air. «I got it!» I shuffle over and poke my head up, immediately ducking down to dodge a shot. But all I need is a moment because now I know where he is and where to drop the crate so it lands on his head. I release my grasp on the projectile and wait for the sound of impact before peeking upward again. And there he is, splayed forward on the matted grass beneath the ruins of a ration supply box. With a triumphant, evil grin, I continue to rain fire upon the remaining Mogadorians. Quiver snarls, revealing her gleaming sharp fangs and lunging with extended claws into the fray of Mog soldiers. I shoot a blaster from the hands of a soldier and Quiver quickly swipes her claws through him, effectively turning him to ash before spinning to take out another, and another, and another until nothing remains, save for the thick ash suspended in the night air and the crackling of the fire as it slowly dies down.

«How many are left?» I ask, breathing heavy and scanning the camp for any movement.

«I left three others alive,» she replies breathlessly. «But all the others are dead.»

«Good.» I hop off the roof, dragging the prisoner telekinetically after me. Quiver trots over to inspect the boy carefully as I lower him to the ground.

«Is he alright?»

"I'm fine, thanks for asking," I say sarcastically, walking off toward the Mog I'd knocked out.

«Good. Is he alright?»

"He's fine," I mutter, kicking wooden splinters off the Mogadorian. "And he would've been fine if we left him on the fire, too." I pause, then turn back to the Chimæra to inspect her own wound. "Are _you_ okay?" A circular, reddened patch of skin sits exposed on her left side, covered in burnt fur.

«Yes. It's sore but I'll be alright.»

"It needs to be cleaned and wrapped," I argue firmly. "We'll do that after I secure our new prisoners. Maybe one of them can show us where they keep their medical supplies."

«There is some back at the house.»

Pretending I don't hear her, I stare at his face, covered in sweat, dirt, and ash. The blindfold still lays over his eyes, and I'm not sure if I should remove it or not. "I don't remember him from the ship," I murmur. But that being said, I hardly remember _anything_ from the ship. "Do you?"

«No. But I don't remember most of the Garde or the Cêpan. I was healing from an injury I received during the Mogadorian Invasion, and she did not want me near the Garde during the trip, so I rarely saw anyone but her and a few other Cêpan.»

I nod numbly, deciding I'll have to ask her about her past at some point. But not now. Not for a while. My gaze falls from his face and down the rest of his body. And I realize he's so goddamn heavy because he's freaking ripped for a teenager. His arms are huge, and he has a super defined six-pack and pecs.

"But he must be Loric, he didn't burn or anything. Plus, the Mogs used those _crazy_ handcuffs on him. Hey, do you think we can just take them off and use them on the Mogs?" I ask, rolling the guy over onto his side to look at the handcuffs around his wrists, which Quiver does not approve of.

«Six,» she scolds quietly.

"What?" I demand, peering at the cuffs. "I'm too tired to lift him with telekinesis." They're thick, like regular handcuffs on steroids. They don't look too complicated...except I don't see a keyhole.

"I don't think there's a key for these," I muse, trying to get a better look at them. _This fucking stick..._ I get to my feet and step down hard on the stick. The stupid thing is thick though and it takes a few kicks until it snaps in half with a loud crack.

And the guy suddenly moves, yelling in surprise and kicking and struggling against the handcuffs.

"Hey!" He yells. "Let me out of these you bastards! I'm gonna kick your asses you fuckers! I'm gonna fucking kill _all_ of you! HEEEYYYY!"

"Hey!" I yell back, reigning in the urge to kick him. "Shut the hell up! They're dead!"

Immediately, he stops struggling. "What!? Who the hell are you!?"

" _I'm_ asking the questions," I say sternly. "You're the one who's tied up so you're gonna tell me who you are first."

He snorts. "Look, lady, I dunno who the hell you think you are, but I am _not_ someone who takes orders from a girl. So you can ask me all you want but I'm not tellin you shit."

 _Awesome._ "Alright," I shrug even though I knew he can't see me "We'll just leave you here then."

"Wait!" He starts thrashing in the grass again. "Shit, wait a sec! Hold on, lady...we? Who the hell else is here?"

"My friend. And she doesn't like stubborn people." W _ell, that's at least true._ "So you better start talking." I shoot Quiver a pointed look. «Be scary.»

"What–?" But Quiver cuts him off, growling deep in her throat and barking threateningly.

 _Nice._

But the only reaction we receive from him is a disbelieving laugh. "You have a _dog?"_

 _I'm gonna kill this guy._ "No, I have a wolf."

"That sounded like a dog."

"That's something someone who's never heard a wolf before would say."

"Well, it sounds like a dog. And I can't see shit, so it's a dog."

I shake my head, finally clueing into the game this guy's playing. "Nice try, but I'm not taking your blindfold off. Now, you wanna tell me who you are, or you wanna be left here?"

He falls silent in contemplation and sighs. "I'm just a regular guy. These crazy ass dudes busted into my house and took me and blindfolded me and I don't remember anything else, alright? That good enough for you?"

I narrow my eyes at him, unable to decide if what he's saying is true or not. "How do you get these cuffs off?" I ask, inspecting them closer.

"Hell if I know," he mutters angrily. "I woke up with them on. Did those bastards put me over a fire?"

"Mhmm."

"Fuckers."

«What do we do?» I ask.

«I don't know.» Quiver seems as conflicted as I am. «He seems to be telling the truth. His story supports why he doesn't look Loric.»

«Should I let him go?»

«Maybe.»

"Hey!" He calls. "Where'd you go?"

"Still here," I answer. "I'll try to get the cuffs off, maybe one of these guys has the keys on them..." I turn from the boy and kneel over the unconscious Mogadorian, searching his clothing pockets for a key or _anything_. I find only a rectangular metal thing, though that's all it appears to be: metal.

"Did you find anything?" He asks hopefully.

"I dunno," I admit. "I found this metal thing, but it doesn't look like it does anything."

"Try it anyway. These things are killing me."

And because I don't have any better ideas, I try it. Running my fingers over the metal rectangle in search of a button, hovering it above the cuffs and pressing every side against them until finally, after pressing a particular side against the outside of the right cuff, the metal snaps open to release his hands.

" _Finally,_ " he cries, shaking his hands out in relief. I grin and do the same thing to his ankles. The cuffs snap open and I see a scar–

"Oh man, that feels great!" He scrambles to his feet, ripping the blindfold off and gazing around until his gaze lands on me. He catches my stare, notices my disbelief and horror and amazement. "What?" He asks.

«Six, what is it?»

"What number?" I breathe.

He squints at me. "Huh?"

"What number are you?" I ask again, my heart thundering in my chest. From fear or excitement, I can't tell.

"I...I'm– Wait. You're...are you a...?"

"I'm like you," I reach down and lift up the leg of my pants, revealing the two, circular scars wrapped around my right ankle. Identical to his.

He laughs. "No way! I can't–you're Loric?" He runs a hand through his wild, dark hair. "You're a Garde? You're from Lorien?"

I nod and he laughs again, unable to believe it.

"I'm– Holy shit, I can't believe it! I–" He holds his hand out in greeting. "I'm Nine."

I reach my hand out to shake his. "Six."

\- – § – -

 **AN: Ayyy check out this long ass chapter, awesome right? I'm pretty proud of it, but I'm kinda iffy about the fight scene. I didn't like having Six on the sidelines just shooting, but it made the most sense so oh well. Sorry for the wait on this chapter! I'm trying my best to get over this writer's block, and it doesn't help that I have a bunch of assignments and finals coming up. Hallelujah, it's almost summer! Just gotta survive one more month of school lol.**

 **Yay, I introduced Nine! He's one of my faves from the novels so I kept him pretty similar. Plus Ludi Lin is hella hot and I think he's perfect for Nine's character. I know he's Asian but there is no mention throughout the LL series stating Loric can only be Caucasian and I wanted my characters to be a little more diverse.**

 **Also, I completely forgot to mention the Mogs turning to ash when they die in the first chapter, so I had to go back and fix that.**

 **I'd love to hear your guys' thoughts so please leave a review! :)**

* * *

 **EDIT: Had to go back and fix some past tense and continuity errors**


	7. - 3 -

**WARNING**

 **THIS CHAPTER IS VERY GRAPHIC AND CONTAINS SLIGHT TORTURE**

* * *

6

* * *

"Oh man," Nine is still grinning and shaking his head. "This is awesome. I can't believe I finally met someone... Wait," he looks around. "Where's–?" Quiver steps forward, silencing Nine with awe. "That's sick."

"That's Quiver," I say, bending down to scoop up the cuffs and the unlocking remote-thing. "She's a Chimæra."

Nine pauses his petting, his hand buried in her fur. "A what?"

"Chimæra," I repeat, locking the cuffs around the unconscious Mogadorian I'd taken out earlier. "Do you know where more of these are?"

"No, and what the hell's a Chimæra?" His eyes widen when he sees the Mog, and before I can do anything he's appeared beside me and has his fingers curled around the pale throat of the alien, who immediately jolts awake with an enraged, choked cry.

"Nine!" I rip his hands away but he fights me. "Stop it," I hiss desperately. "We need him alive for now." Breathing heavily, Nine stares at me with fire in his brown eyes.

"That one," he growls, pointing a finger at the wheezing Mog, "is their fucking ringleader. He just tried to fucking _eat_ me."

"Yeah I _know,_ " I retort heatedly. "He's been trying to hunt down and kill us for the last two weeks, alright? We both have a score to settle."

The Mogadorian is laughing hideously in between wheezes, looking between the two of us with his empty black eyes. "You are fools," he says roughly, the words hardly discernible with his accent. "Fools," he repeats and laughs hysterically.

"Six," Nine warns. "I'm gonna rip out his—" I send him my own warning, and he falls silent immediately, turning his gaze away while clenching his jaw and fists.

"Go secure the others with Quiver," I order. "I don't care how just don't let them escape."

«And don't let him kill any of them,» I add, trusting the Chimæra to keep him in check without me. Quiver dips her large, furry head in understanding. Nine is still kneeling in the grass beside me, but another warning glare sends him off quickly without anything more than an irritated grumble.

The Mogadorian is still laughing silently on his back in the ash-coated grass. "You—"

"Are fools," I finish drily. "Yeah, I got that. Anything else you can tell me?"

"You will _die_."

 _Awesome._ "Alright," I get to my feet and grab his cuffs to drag him up after me. "Let's try something else." His ankles are cuffed together so he has to hop ridiculously fast to keep up with me and I'm honestly enjoying it so much I consider walking in an extra circle just to prolong it. But all good things must come to an end, and it only takes a few seconds to reach the shed I'd been using earlier for cover. With whatever remaining telekinetic power I have, I lift him through the air and hook the back of his trenchcoat collar on the highest corner of the roof. Immediately, he begins struggling.

"Yeah, I wouldn't do that if I were you!" I called. But he only growls in response and keeps trying to work his coat off the edge. "A fall from that height will break both your legs," I continue. "And I'm sure as hell not gonna save you because it'd make my life a whole lot better if I got to watch you drag yourself across the ground."

He grunts but stops moving. "Whatever you do, Loric _scum,_ will not make me talk."

"Well, that sounds like a challenge," I muse. "And I'm not one to back down from challenges." I drag a blaster through the air and into my grasp. My telekinesis is reaching its limit, but I have to keep straining everything from it that I can.

"Now, you're gonna tell me everything you know right now," I say, beginning to charge up the firearm. "Or you're gonna tell me _after_ I have my fun." His silence is enough of an answer, and I don't hesitate to fire at him. The shot grazes his external oblique just enough to burn him without injuring anything important. It leaves a large hole in the side of the Mog's clothing that exposes his raw, burnt skin, and a smouldering circle on the wall of the wooden shed behind him.

He tenses, but nothing more than a hiss of pain escapes his sealed lips. So I fire at his other side. He grimaces and exhales in laughter.

I clench my jaw and adjust my grip on the blaster. _The fucking nerve this bastard has._ I fire directly at his kneecap. Then the other. His body flinches but he keeps laughing. Gritting my teeth, I shoot his thigh, then telekinetically press sharply into the wound.

"You can die a dishonourable death," I say. "Hanging here until you die of infection or dehydration. Or, you can tell me what you know and I'll offer you death in combat. The way a _real_ soldier should die."

He heaves with laughter. _"Honour?"_ He snarls. "I do not care for _honour_."

«I don't know what else to do without killing him,» I say worriedly. «I can only shoot him in so many places. And I don't even know if it's hurting him, he just keeps laughing.»

«Break his arm,» Quiver offers. «We're almost finished collecting the others.»

With an internal sigh of resignation, I gather my telekinesis and abruptly smash his nose flat. Bone, cartilage, all of it reduces to a pulp that spews outward in a bloody mess. The energy swiftly rushes out of me and I stumble a little with the exhaustion.

The Mogadorian is breathing roughly through his mouth, visibly shaking and glaring at me with his black eyes. I feel some sort of twisted satisfaction at the sight, and I can't help but grin and piss him off even more.

"You wanna lose your ears next?"

His lips curl back and he bares small, jagged teeth at me like some sort of feral beast.

I wrinkle my nose in disgust. "Ew." That seems to piss him off even more, and I grin before crushing both his ears. My legs quiver from the strain of holding myself up and I feel an overwhelming urge to drop to the ground and sleep for the next two weeks, but I remain standing and listen to his scream of pain and rage.

"Damn Six," Nine appears beside me, floating a trio of unconscious Mogs tied with rope behind him. He nods appreciatively at my work, dangling from the top of the wooden shed, shaking with anger and dripping blood from his crushed nose and ears. Quiver seems less pleased.

«Six, what are you doing?»

«Working,» I reply matter-of-factly. «Any problems?»

«No. You?»

"Can't get this bastard to talk," I mutter in a low voice for both Quiver and Nine to hear.

The three Mogs unceremoniously drop to the grass and Nine stretches his arms out in front of him, a few knuckles cracking. "I got this," he says confidently, striding toward the Mogadorian. "You're the fucker who tried to roast me and eat me, and now you're gonna fuckin pay." The Mog's head snaps to the side, then the other—punched by an invisible fist. Nine goes back and forth on him until the Mog's face is painted with reddened bruises and cuts and he's panting and glaring a death wish upon the teenage Garde.

«Six, I don't think we're going to get anything from him,» Quiver says at last.

«We have to.»

"You wanna go another round?" Nine asks fiercely. "Cuz I'm just getting started."

I sigh through my nose and run our limited options through my head, wishing I had telepathy with more than just animals so I can speak silently with Nine.

«We could leave him here for a few days then come back to try again,» I offer.

«Reinforcements may arrive before then,» Quiver replies. «We have no idea what to expect, so we need to get as far from here as quickly as we can.»

I watch as Nine begins to land more telekinetic punches on the Mogadorian. I don't know what to do, I admit, feeling more defeated than ever, wishing I don't have to be the one making these decisions. «I wish she was here.»

Quiver is solemn. «As do I.»

Nine finishes with round two but we still aren't getting anything from the Mogadorian. He must be as worried as I am that anything more will kill him because Nine walks away with a 'that's what you get' look and returns to Quiver and me.

"That bastard's solid," he mutters. "I don't think this is gonna work."

I sigh and nod my agreement. "Yeah, neither do we."

"If he's not gonna talk, I don't think these other guys will," Nine adds, jerking his sharp chin toward the other Mogs laying awkwardly in the grass with limbs tied together.

"And I bet won't know anything either. This guy's probably the one who gets the orders from HQ, the others are just his soldiers."

Nine looks between me and Quiver with raised brows. "So should I kill him?"

I press my eyes closed and rub my face. "Fuck, I dunno."

"I can sure as hell go for another round," Nine says. "But I don't think mister anemic can."

I glance at the battered, slouching Mog and grimace. Where his nose and ears were there's now only dried blood, his face is patterned with purpling bruises and red cuts, his breathing sounds rickety, his exposed burns are red and raw, his whole body is trembling, and I think he's missing a significant amount of teeth.

"You're right," I mumble. "Let's just kill these bastards and get the hell out of here."

«We cannot torture them any further, Six,» Quiver says.

I ignore her.

Nine grins wickedly and turns his gaze upon the Mogadorian hanging from the shed roof.

\- – § – -

"So what're your Legacies so far?" Nine asks, glancing at me through the darkness as we trekked through the trees, Quiver high in the sky scouting ahead in gyrfalcon form.

"Telekinesis and some sort of animal telepathy," I say with a shrug. "Nothing really cool. You?"

"Telekinesis, super speed maybe, and this." Nine grins and suddenly he's gone.

"What—?" A finger taps my shoulder and I spin around to find Nine grinning hugely at me. "How did you...?" Then he does it again. He disappears only to reappear a few feet away. "You can teleport?" I breathe.

"Cool, right?" He asks.

"Yeah," I laugh, starting to walk again. "I hope I get something cool."

"You will," he says. "My Cêpan told me Garde get at least five legacies or something. Some get a whole bunch, and then we each get a Master Legacy which is supposed to be really powerful. So you'll get something badass eventually."

 _Wow._ "My Cêpan never told me any of that," I mutter quietly.

"Mine's dead," Nine says nonchalantly.

A part of me rages over the fact that he doesn't seem to care, but I recall my own Cêpan telling me once that everyone handles emotions differently, and also that guys are idiots. So I decide the reason's he's probably like this is just his idiocy paired with the fact that he handles grief differently than me. So I let it slide and just nod solemnly.

"Yeah," I murmur sadly. "Mine too."

"How long ago?" He asks, almost softly.

"Fourteen days, almost fifteen." My gaze flickers to Nine momentarily. "What about you?"

"This morning." His voice is low, and trembles ever so slightly.

"Mogs?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says. "You?"

"Yeah. One of the bastards from that camp."

Nine sighs and his breath is shaky. "It was my fault."

I nod. "Mine too. I could've saved her."

"Yeah." His voice cracks on that one word.

"I'm gonna kill them," I say, my rage reigniting and strengthening my voice. "I'm gonna kill every one of them."

Behind us, the camp burns high and bright against the darkness and the Mogadorians scream into the night.

\- – § – -

 **AN: Well that took a while but I finally managed this chapter! Yay! It was kinda dark in terms of the torture and them burning the camp with the Mogs in it but oh well haha it's part of their character development. They're both pissed with the Mogs for killing their Cêpans so I'd say it's a pretty natural reaction to want the Mogs to suffer. It's still kinda dark tho. Jeez, imagine what Six is gonna do when she meets Adam for the first time. That'll be interesting!**

 **ANYWAYS I hope y'all are excited that Nine has teleportation because I sure as hell am! I'm also gonna keep his background and Cêpan mostly the same but he's gonna have some kick-ass Legacies that I hope everyone is prepared for!** **Six is also gonna have some awesome Legacies but for now, she's stuck with some kinda boring stuff haha. Which Legacies do you guys think they might develop?**

 **Also, my school is officially OUT! I mean, I still have four finals to write but whatever lol it's basically summer. But now I have two full months of doing NOTHING and I'm gonna try my best to update more often than once a month lmao. But hey, if you're waiting on updates for this story, go check out my other stories (they're awesome)!**

 **Wow this is a long author's note ahah. Well, thank you guys for the reviews! I love reading them so please lemme know what you guys thought of this chapter! :)**


	8. - 4 -

𝟼

* * *

"Are we there yet?" Nine groans for the fourth time in ten minutes. I ignore him, focusing instead on not tripping over tree roots and rocks as we walk.

"I'm serious, Six, we've been walking for three fucking days, eating leaves and tree rats," he complains. "I can't sustain my abs like this." He pokes his arm muscle with a deep, worried frown. "I can already feel my biceps disappearing."

I sigh. "I swear to God, Nine, I'm gonna kill you if you don't shut the fuck up."

He grumbles and crosses his arms over his still-bare chest, but thankfully doesn't say anything more.

For three days I've been dealing with his unending complaining and episodes of sudden, unchecked rage. And despite enjoying my newfound company, I'm on the verge of tying him to a tree and leaving.

«Squirrel,» Quiver announces.

«No thanks,» I reply dryly. «Nine's sick of 'tree rats.'»

«As am I.»

«How close are we? He's getting on my nerves.» I glance irritably at Nine, who's currently trying to make convincing bird noises.

«Two hours at this pace.»

I sigh heavily. "You sound like a turkey."

Nine pauses, staring at me with a dramatic level of disbelief and hurt. "Six, I don't think you know what a turkey sounds like."

"I don't think you know what a robin sounds like," I counter.

"Oh fuck off," he groans. "Do it, then."

I reach out with my telepathy to the robin Nine is trying to imitate and ask for a song. When the bird starts singing, Nine throws his hands in the air in a _what the fuck_ kind of way.

"That doesn't count."

"Why not?" I demand hotly. "I just had to prove that whatever noise _you_ were making did _not_ sound like a robin."

"Bitch," he breathes.

"Dick."

\- – § – -

Two more hours of more complaining and more bickering pass by before the three of us finally reach our destination: my house. Well, more specifically, my _last_ house. With my Cêpan and I constantly moving around, I've lived in more houses than I care to remember. This one in particular I wish I already forgot. But how can I possibly hope to forget the first place I saw and killed a Mogadorian? The last place I saw her before she died? I can never hope to forget—only be haunted by the memories.

"Six?"

I clench my jaw, ball my hands into fists. "Let's make this quick."

I stalk toward the rickety wooden house with its tiny brick chimney and red metal shingles, trying to ignore the fact that Nine is following right behind me, right into my life. The loud creaking of the steps up to the porch and the sight of the white paint peeling from the wood pisses me off, though I can't understand why.

"What are we here for?"

Even though I'm hardly listening to him, I just about punch him for that. The door squeaks on its hinges when I push it open, revealing the battle zone inside.

Mogadorian ash thickly coats the floor in the entranceway and kitchen where my Cêpan and I opened fire at them. The fallen blasters are gone, meaning the Mogs must have returned to collect them. I'm surprised they didn't burn the whole place down on their way out. _We sure as hell didn't hesitate to._

Circular burns from Mog blasters litter the walls on one side of the kitchen while bullet holes pepper the expanse of the other side. Shattered glass panes from the broken windows are strewn across the wooden floorboards in deadly shards. The kitchen table lays on its side from when my Cêpan kicked it over for us to take cover behind. I don't look at the dried blood I know resides behind it as I walk past, going straight to the living area. I hardly look at anything save for where the back wall of the house meets the ceiling.

"Six–" Nine pauses for a moment, his attention diverted. I hardly notice. "What the...? Is this a trap door!? No fuckin way!"

"Don't open it," I say immediately, reaching my telekinesis out and into the wall. "It's rigged."

"That is _sick,_ " he laughs. "What the hell's down there?"

I probe up toward the ceiling, only half listening to Nine. "Nothing," I answer.

"Then why the fuck is it locked and full of traps?"

I sigh through my nose. _Idiot._ "If you were trying to find something important like my chest, where would you look first? In the walls or in the locked trapdoor rigged with traps?"

"Ah, I get it. It's a bigass decoy."

"Exactly." _And it worked perfectly_. Finally, I feel the firm, unyielding wooden box with its unique carvings deep in the wall next to the back door and right below the ceiling. I hear Nine stop beside me.

"What are you _doing?_ "

I grit my teeth and wrench my chest out of the wall, sending drywall and wood splinters and insulation spewing outward in a cloud of dust and debris.

"Shit."

My chest still floating, I rip open a door to the attic in the roof, ignoring Nine's apparent shock. A ladder slides down loudly and lands on the ground. I grasp the rungs and climb upwards, dragging my chest along behind me.

The attic is dark and musty and retains a strange smell in the wood from when I burned a pot of rice not long ago. I almost smile at the memory, recalling how angry my Cêpan had been when she returned home to the smell of burned rice while I—having forgotten about the cooking food—was outside training. The pot was ruined and the whole house reeked for two weeks before it dissipated. But somehow, the attic trapped the smell inside of it. It isn't very pleasant, but I've learned to deal with it. Nine, however, hasn't had any practice.

"Holy fuck," he groans. "What is that smell?"

I ignore him. "You can check that chest for clothes," I say, pointing to my Cêpan's large wooden chest of clothing at the end of her bed, which is really just a mattress with a few blankets and pillows. Nine has been wearing the same swimming shorts he wore when we found him, and since he refused to take any Mog clothes from the camp, this is his only other option.

I drop my Inheritance chest onto my own mattress and grab the pre-packed backpack from the end of my bed, unzipping it and double-checking its contents. My Cêpan has one too. Has? Had? I don't know. And I don't really want to.

"That's an emergency bag." I point to the identical backpack beside the chest of clothing Nine is sifting through. "You can take it, too."

"Thanks."

I stare at my chest for a moment, debating whether or not I should open it. The Loric symbols carved into its sides, the keyless padlock on the front, the delicate wood that's actually protected by a charm that makes it indestructible. No, I know I should open it, but I can't. So I roughly shove it inside my backpack, zip it up. I can feel Nine watching me, but I hardly care and choose to ignore him as I kneel in front of my chest of clothes. I have to get out of these clothes. _The clothes I killed in._

I shiver involuntarily, inhale deeply, exhale. I tear my sweaty, ash-covered t-shirt off and pull on a clean black tank top. We don't have time to shower, though I'd kill for one right now. I change into a new pair of shorts, then swing my bag onto my shoulders and wait for Nine to finish changing as well. He's found the clothes my Cêpan wore whenever she was superstitious and insisted we dress and act like boys. He's also emptied my Cêpan's clothes from the bag, but hasn't filled it with anymore for himself.

Nine must notice my confusion.

"If we can get a ride, it's only a day drive to Chicago," he explains, zipping up the backpack and shrugging it on.

"Chicago?" I repeat. Seeing him in a shirt is really throwing me off. "What the hell makes you think we can go there? We need to stay incognito. As in, 'off the grid.'"

Now _he_ seems confused. "Nah," he says, shaking his head, "that shit's old school."

"That shit's _also_ been keeping us alive," I retort sharply.

He shrugs. "Maybe you, but not me. I don't do that whole 'moving to a different country every week' thing." He wrinkles his nose and scowls. "Hell, can we _please_ get out of here? It smells like shit."

I fight the urge to roll my eyes at him. "Fine. There's a truck we can take out back. We should get out of here anyways."

He grins. "Nice. We get on the road now we should be there sometime tonight."

I sigh and briskly walk past him toward the ladder. "We're not going to Chicago, Nine."

"You got any better ideas?" He calls.

"Yeah." I hop off the ladder. " _Not_ _dying._ "

He quickly climbs down after me. "How about _living?_ "

"What's the difference?" I kick the back door open and walk outside onto the creaky back porch.

Nine follows close on my heels. "If you've ever lived you would know," he says. I shoot him a deadly glare for that and step off the porch into the grass.

"I have a place in Chicago," he continues, chasing after me. "You don't have to worry about not dying there. It's legit, I swear. My Cêpan set it up. We can hide out there, train a bit, then head out to find the others. It can be our base of operations. A safe haven for _all_ of us. That's what we made it for."

I clench my jaw angrily because it _does_ sound nice and I want to agree. But I've never been in a city any longer than a few hours. My Cêpan never allowed it; she taught me to find places the world doesn't see and hide there. She taught me to never stop moving, never stop checking over your shoulder. She taught me to fear cities, where there were thousands of people, millions of eyes and cameras that are impossible to hide from. The epitome of chaos.

 _You don't have to worry about not dying…A safe haven for_ all _of us._

I nod. "Okay."

\- – § – -

 **AN: Woah, sorry this took me forever lol ik I said I could start updating more than once a month but I've been trying to kickstart a new story and pick up another that I've been slacking on so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ plus it's summer vacation**

 **ANYWAYS they're headed to Chicago and y'all already know what's there. Tbh I loved Nine's penthouse in the books so I just had to keep it in this story. Sorry if it's hella basic but idc haha**

 **There's probably gonna be a ton of backstory and some more bickering next chapter lol hopefully it won't be too boring**

 **Please review! I love reading them :)**


	9. - 5 -

𝟼

* * *

My Cêpan would have killed me. For as long as I can remember, she taught me that going into a city was never an option—never would be. And now here I am, on my way to one of the largest cities in the country with another Garde–

 _Oh shit._

"The Charm."

Nine yawns and slides down further in the passenger seat. "Huh?"

"It's broken, dumbass. We're not protected anymore."

"Oh." His eyebrows draw together in annoyance. "That's shitty."

"Yeah," I agree haughtily. "And how are the other Garde supposed to know that they're fucked now?"

"They'll figure it out."

I shoot him an unimpressed glare, prompting him to roll his eyes at me. "You want me to set off a flare?" He demands. "If we try to warn them, the Mogs will know."

"They _already_ know," I argue. "They've been tracking me for weeks and now we burned their camp and when they don't find you there in a few hours, they're gonna know."

Quiver—laying on the dash—raises her tiny fox head to contribute to the conversation. «Six is right.»

"See!" I point a finger at the Chimæra. "Quiver agrees with me."

Nine scowls. "So what the hell are you gonna do about it? Facebook message them? That's _exactly_ what they're expecting us to do."

I clench the steering wheel angrily. "I'm not an idiot." _I'm never using the internet again. Not after what happened_.

Sensing my thoughts, Quiver attempts to provide some degree of reassurance, but I block it out. I block everything out, including Nine's expectant stare. He's waiting for a plan I don't yet have and I can't focus on formulating one when there's so much shit going on. I _have_ to block it out.

He says something, but it's just a murmur in the back of my mind. I have to focus on the road and getting to Chicago and how I'm going to manage to get the others and how the hell I'm going to kill all the Mogadorians while keeping myself and the Garde alive. _Easy peasy._

He's still yelling at me and suddenly there's resistance on the gas pedal. I fight Nine's telekinesis with gritted teeth, but he's had more practice than me and is stronger. Bracing myself, I release any pressure on the gas and slam the brakes down. Nine—swearing and cursing—lurches forward for a moment before his telekinesis stops him from flying into the dash while Quiver slides roughly into the windshield with a startled bark.

«Six!»

"What the f–!?"

"Just shut up!" I cry. "Stop talking and shut the fuck up for once!"

He narrows his eyes at me. "You can't just pull that shit on me and then tell _me_ to shut up! Fuckin' Christ, why do you always gotta be such a bitch!?"

Quiver stiffens and watches me carefully. «Six...»

But I'm not listening. It takes everything in me not to contract my telekinesis around his trachea. "You," I hiss, "don't know a damn thing."

"Oh, fuck off," Nine snaps. "I'm not some dumbass hothead. I know you! You think you're some _bad girl_ who can take the whole Mog army even though you only got one decent Legacy you can _barely_ use! _And_ , you think you're entitled to be pissed off at everyone just because you've been having a hard time lately! I know you didn't give a shit about your training because 'I'm number Six and the Mogs won't make it to me, la-dee-da I'm gonna call Stephanie or paint my nails' or whatever the _fuck_. You didn't care until there was a Mogadorian trying to kill you, and then it was too late. You're the reason your Cêpan is dead and that's just _killing_ you." Quiver's ears fall flat and she bares her teeth, but he just stares at me with fire burning in his eyes. "And now, you think somehow you can bring everyone together and save Earth from the big bad Mogs, no big deal. Open your damn eyes, they got a fucking army and we got seven dumbass teenagers with uncontrollable powers! They took Lorien when there were _hundreds_ of us. You can't beat them!"

"And you're the reason why!" I shout. "No shit we can't beat them because _you're_ a dumbass hothead who says 'fuck you' to the world because it dealt you a shitty hand. You're arrogant and impulsive and impatient and you don't care about the humans _or_ their Earth!"

"Jesus, Six, they're trying to fucking kill us!" He yells. "They're hunting us too! They're no better than the Mogadorians!" He jabs a finger at the windshield—the land past it. "Look at their planet, look at what they're doing to it!"

I know exactly what he's talking about. The pollution on Earth is almost unbearable, and the humans aren't doing anything to fix it. But what _he_ doesn't know is that he's just as willing to let the planet die. "Letting the Mogadorians win makes you just as bad as them." I retort. His face falls almost imperceptibly and I take a moment to breathe before continuing. "They took Lorien, they took my people, they took my family, they took my life, they took _her_ , and now they want us and this planet and I can't let them have it. They've taken so much, and they _keep taking_. Look at us. They want to tear us apart because they know we're stronger in numbers. That's why I'm trying to bring us together. I can't let them have Earth and we're its only hope." My eyes burn and I have to look out the windshield instead of at Nine. He's beginning to look apologetic and that's something I can't handle. "My Cêpan's dead because I was afraid. I didn't know what was going on with the others or where they were, and she wouldn't let me try to find them. But I didn't listen. I went online and the Mogs found us a few hours later. They came through all the windows and all the doors. When I came downstairs they were everywhere. I never saw one before. I tried so hard to use my Legacy I forgot the Charm would protect me." _So stupid. I should've done something_. "She kept telling me to leave but I didn't really hear her until she got hit. I left her there and ran. Quiver found me outside and took me away. We spent the last two weeks hunting the same Mogs who killed her and were still looking for me."

"And you found me," he finishes, nodding and finally looking away from me. "My Cêpan's dead because I was impulsive. They shouldn't've been able to find us, but they did." He shrugs hopelessly. "Still don't know how. They showed up in São Luís like motherfucking daisies. A whole team of them was waiting for us in the beach house. And we have this huge Loralite rock I use to teleport to other ones, and we made it there, but Ennis got shot and let go of me when I teleported and I was so panicked I didn't have time to think of a place to go, so I ended up in the Mexican Gulf. I couldn't reach the Loralite there, it must've been five thousand feet down. All I could do was swim to the nearest shore, and I saw that Mog camp and I was so pissed I thought I could take them all." He shakes his head, his fingers closing around a phantom hand, clenching into a tight fist. "If I'd waited _one_ second."

 _I know_. _God, I know._

Nine pushes the dark hair from his forehead with a sigh and opens his door. "I'll drive," he offers, sliding out of his seat. "I gotta clear my head."

 _Something I can understand._ Without argument, I put the truck into park and hop out, walking past him to the other side of the vehicle. I climb inside, closing the door behind me and settling into the still-warm seat. I can feel Quiver watching me carefully, aware that any attempt to reassure me is pointless.

I cross my arms and turn my head to look out the window, the trees beginning to speed by once more as we resume our thirteen-hour drive.

"How much longer in this damn truck?" I mutter.

He glances at the time displayed on the dashboard. "Ten more hours of drowning in your estrogen," he answers tiredly.

 _Fuck me._ "You can't teleport there?"

He snorts. "Not unless you got a Loralite boulder hiding up your ass."

I can't decide which situation would be more fortunate.

"Ten hours to come up with a plan, then," I muse, resigning myself to a long and horribly boring drive.

\- – § – -

"Those look like dog treats."

Nine gags as I open a package of dehydrated mangoes and pop one into my mouth.

I shrug. _More for me._

"Please tell me you packed something that _doesn't_ look like ass."

I reach down for the bag at my feet and rummage through it until my fingers close around another package. I toss it to him and settle back into my seat. Nine looks down at it uncertainly.

"It's beef jerky," I add drily, picking another slice of dried mango from the bag in my lap.

"Thank Lorien," he mutters, tearing the package open telekinetically. "I haven't had any decent protein in _days_."

"You are unbelievably dramatic."

He ignores me and uses his telekinesis to steer the truck while he eats. "This is dry as fuck."

"It's _beef jerky_."

"Exactly," he says. "Beef jerky's dry, but this shit is _mummified_."

I shake my head and watch the flat landscape of Missouri pass by through the window. We crossed into the state about fifteen minutes ago, and in another hour we'll be in Illinois. Somehow, we've managed to reach the halfway mark of our journey and I still have yet to conjure a plan. Nine's right: there's no way to alert the Garde without getting ourselves or them killed.

"You look like you're thinking."

I shoot him a bewildered glance and he lifts his hands up in mock defence, mumbling an insincere apology. He returns to eating and driving simultaneously and I return to uselessly mulling over our lack of options.

 _Doing nothing will get them killed, but sending a message will get all of us killed. And with no way to find them..._

I sigh hopelessly. "We're screwed."

Nine laughs. "Like that's new," he muses, shoving his hand deep into the bag of beef jerky.

"Yeah, but now it's not just lucky-Number-Three who's fucked, it's all of us. And we have no way to warn them."

"Six," Nine swallows a mouthful of jerky before continuing, "we barely had a chance of making it this far. We've been fucked since the moment we were chosen on Lorien. And look at us," he spreads his arms, motioning to the interior of the truck—our safety, our being together. "I think we'll be fine. Besides," he smiles wickedly. "I have an idea."

\- – § – -

 **AN: Yikes it's been a minute since I've updated this story lol**

 **I'm so sorry about basically abandoning this story for so long but life's been busy and I've been trying to write like three other stories at the same time, which has not been very successful**

 **I know that's a shitty excuse and I plan on updating all of my stories more often but I have my grad coming up and I gotta keep my marks up (shooting for honours with distinction my dudes pray for me** **) and I have to start worrying about finding a job and what the fuck I'm going to do with my life after school so my brain is pretty booked ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯**

 **Honestly though, I'm doing my best! And again, I'm so so sorry!**

 **Anyways, I love every one of you for sticking with this story and I hope you enjoyed this long overdue chapter! :D**


	10. - 6 -

𝟼

* * *

"This is a horrible idea."

"You wanted some way to tell the others, so here it is." Nine crosses his arms and gazes across the rolling field of buckwheat. "Take it or leave it, I don't really give a fuck."

We're in the absolute middle of nowhere, there isn't a camera around for miles. It's perfect. Somehow, Nine's plan is perfect. But the risk is never really gone. They can still find us this way, and they'll know instantly.

"You know we won't just be warning the others," I say. "We'll be telling the Mogs, too."

"They're gonna figure it out before the others anyway," he argues. "They always do, you know that."

He's right. That's how they killed One and Two. That's how they always find us before we can find each other. That's why they're winning. Doing this won't change a thing, except it might give the other Garde and their Cêpan a fighting chance.

Still, I hesitate. "You sure you can get us out of there fast enough?"

"Why don't you trust me?"

I roll my eyes. "Just fucking give it to me," I mutter, holding out my hand.

Nine hands me the flamethrower silently, gesturing to the open field of peaceful, whispering buckwheat.

«You ready?» I call. Quiver circles high above, waiting.

«Let's do it.»

\- – § – -

Burning a crop circle was not easy. Burning _two_ made me wonder why the hell I ever considered Nine's stupid plan in the first place.

Sure, lighting a random field of buckwheat on fire is the perfect way to get attention without broadcasting a traceable signal through the internet, but it's also arson, which is illegal on this planet. And it inevitably draws the attention of everyone within a _very_ large radius, including the local fire department. Assuming the plan works, though, we should be out of here before the sirens arrive.

That is, however, assuming I can control the spread of the fire with my telekinesis; an assumption that soon proves to be false.

«If you let it spread any further, it'll be ruined,» Quiver warns.

I grit my teeth, trying to bend the buckwheat further from the hungry flames and allow the fire to burn whatever remained inside the circle before dying out. «I'm doing the best I can.»

Nine's voice crackles through my walkie-talkie. _"Might wanna wrap this up soon,"_ he says, watching the smoke rise into the air from the safety of the truck parked on the road somewhere far off.

 _Might wanna shut the fuck up_ , I think bitterly, too busy containing a potential wildfire to actually reply to him.

«One more,» Quiver says. «Right above it, a little smaller.»

I follow her instructions, flattening the buckwheat with my telekinesis until she's satisfied with the shape. Using the flamethrower, I light the last circle on fire and contain it inside the circle until it burns out, pushing the sparks and smoke high into the air away from the dry field.

«Now the ring.»

But I already know that and begin forming the shape of the ring before the Chimæra tells me to. She gives me directions as I quickly shape the enormous ring, ensuring from her bird's eye view that the crop circle remains a proper circle.

«Good,» she says approvingly. «Light it up.»

And I do just that, firing a quick burst from the flamethrower. _This would be so much easier if I had a pyrokinesis Legacy,_ I think bitterly, sweating from the unbearable heat of the flames in such close proximity.

 _"You havin' a party over there?"_ Nine demands impatiently. _"We gotta go."_

The wind picks up in large gusts, pushing the fire out of its ring and causing Quiver to shout at me to control it, but my telekinesis can only do so much to control so much fire. I end up ripping buckwheat from the ground and hurling it away, creating a cushion between the burning and untouched plants. _If only this fucking wind would go away._

I try to block the gusts with my telekinesis and push the flames in the right direction, but telekinesis isn't supposed to work that way, and so I'm not surprised to find it doesn't do much to help.

 _"Six!"_

I press down the button on the walkie-talkie with my telekinesis while bending the buckwheat out of the flames' reach. "A few more minutes!" I shout, hoping my voice carries clearly through the device. I release the button and return my full attention to the fire, trying to push it along its path faster. It must work because the fire actually seems to follow the path I'm directing it down, the wind dying down enough that I can lift the telekinetic shield I attempted to form.

«I can see the firetrucks,» Quiver warns.

The end of the ring comes into view—the burned patch on the ground where the fire began. _Come on, work with me._

«Get back to the truck,» I tell her. «I'll be done in a few more seconds, we have to get out of here fast.»

«Be safe,» she says after a while, and a moment later her shadow passes over me, heading in Nine's direction.

 _Be safe,_ I repeat bitterly in my mind. _I hate those words_.

True to my word, it only takes a few more seconds for the fire to complete its circle. I wait for a moment, watching the flames that no longer have anywhere to go. Once it's burned out, I stomp on the blackened earth, hoping the flames are truly out and the fire didn't travel underground.

 _"Yo, Six, we gotta move."_

"Then get your ass over here."

Nine materializes in front of me. I feel his hand on my arm then my stomach flips and we're standing beside the truck on the road, the smoke from my fire rising distantly into the air.

"The hell took you so long?" He demands, walking around the front of the truck to the driver's side.

"You try to control fire with only telekinesis," I retort, tossing the flamethrower into the backseat with the remainder of our gear. Quiver—perched on the side mirror—cocks her head at me and flares her wings slightly in a _calm down_ manner.

I roll my eyes and hold my hand out. She turns into a tiny sparrow and hops into my palm with a flap of her wings. Holding her close, I open the passenger door and climb inside, settling into the seat with a tired sigh.

"Let's get out of here," I mutter, dragging the seatbelt down across my waist and buckling it in. Nine's driving is borderline scary.

He puts the truck into gear and pulls out onto the deserted road. " _Now_ you're in a hurry?"

I scoff and check the time, deciding it'd be best not to start another argument before we make it to Chicago. Quiver shifts into a small red fox and curls up on my lap for the final, five-hour leg of our journey.

"Do you think it'll work?" I ask, glancing at Nine in the driver's seat.

A muscle in his jaw ticks. "If the others are anything like us, they've been waiting years for a sign." He meets my gaze. "It'll work. Now take a nap, you look like shit."

" _Thanks_." I sink deeper into the seat and rest my head on the taut seatbelt, closing my eyes just as the windows roll down, carrying a chilly breeze inside. I frown and raise a questioning brow at him, goosebumps already rising on my skin.

"What?" He says. "You smell like shit, too."

"I just lit a field on fire, what do you want?"

" _Not_ to smell smoke for the next five hours," he answers sarcastically.

I try to roll my window up with the controls on my door, but he uses the controls on his own to fight my advances.

"Nine, I'm _freezing_ ," I insist.

"Well, my nose is _burning._ "

"You're such a wimp."

"I have PTSD after almost being roasted!" He cries. "I came _this_ close to being considered rotisserie."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Wake me up in two hours." I cross my arms, resigning myself to a frigid nap. Quiver opens one eye to shoot me a warning look. "Please," I add stiffly.

«You're such a mother,» I complain.

She closes her eye once more, satisfied. «Thank you.»

* * *

𝟹

* * *

"Tom."

I open my eyes groggily and sit up on the couch. "Hm?"

Ben's sitting in the surveillance room, his frame silhouetted by the glowing computer screens. "Have you seen this?" He asks, not bothering to elaborate as if I should already know.

I prop myself up on my elbows, squinting while I adjust to the light. "What?"

"Come here."

Internalizing an irritated sigh, I roll off the couch, the muscles in my back and shoulders protesting. "We moving again?" I mutter, trying not to let the pain show in my voice as I drag myself painfully down the hall toward him. There's nothing I hate more than the morning after training; especially now that Ben's been expecting more Legacy's to develop the last few months.

I can tell before I reach him that he's anxious, and suddenly I'm flooded with this overwhelming sense of dread. I'm already thinking about which clothes to pack and which to leave to be burned in the backyard with the other unnecessaries we've accumulated the past few weeks.

Ben glances over his shoulder at me, tense in his chair when I enter the small, dark room.

"This came up a few hours ago," he says, reaching forward to hit a key on one of the computer's keyboards. The screen changes abruptly and I feel my heart skip.

"Where is this?"

"Southern Illinois," he answers.

I have to take a moment to recall my geography lessons before remembering that's in the States, quite a ways south of us. _That's so close_.

"They're together."

"The Charm." I can hardly tear my gaze away from the monitor. "It couldn't have been humans?"

He shakes his head. "It's them." He pushes his chair back and stands, turning to leave.

"Get some rest," he says. "We're doubling up training. Don't worry about packing yet. They'll be too busy going after the Garde they have pinned to keep tracking us."

I nod numbly, still staring at the picture. The crop circles aren't hard to recognize. I had to memorize all nine of the Loric symbols years ago. The third is branded on my ankle, and the sixth and ninth stare right back at me from the computer screen, burned side-by-side into a buckwheat field only a few hours ago by _them_.

 _Nine and Six._

\- – § – -

 **AN: Sorry for the wait guys! I'm trying my best to keep writing through the end of the school year and for some reason this story in particular is really hard to keep writing, but I'm doing the best I can. I really hope this chapter was worth the wait!**

 **Not much really happened so I decided to throw in the end portion with Three's POV. We'll be seeing lots more of him in future chapters! Assuming I can manage to keep releasing chapters lol**

 **Quick rant guys lol I just gotta let y'all know that it's June and last week it was like 32ºC and today it was motherfucking snowing like.. snow. In motherfucking JUNE YOU GUYS it was snowing ALL FREAKING DAY and we turned the heat off in my house because it was thirty freaking degrees last week so when I got home it was like eighteen degrees inside and I am cold**

 **ANyways, let me know if there's anything I can improve on! If there's anything you guys want to see in future chapters! It's been a while since I've written Nine, Six and Quiver so don't be afraid to let me know if they seem out of character or anything! I appreciate all the feedback I can get! :)**


	11. - 7 -

𝟼

* * *

Nine is gone when I wake up.

He left me and Quiver asleep in the truck, parked on the curb in the middle of what must be Chicago. Though I've never been to a city the size and scale of Chicago, I can't imagine this _isn't_ it.

Despite the sun clearly having set a few hours ago, everything is lit up by streetlights, neon signs on storefronts, digital billboards, and the glowing buildings lining the streets, which are filled with a steady stream of vehicles that never seems to end. People crowd the sidewalk, walking in small groups and fearlessly crossing the street when traffic comes to a stop. I can only marvel at the excessive input of information for a few minutes before I get a headache from the lights and noise.

Car horns, far-off sirens, even the voices of passersby outside and the simple noises of running vehicles are enough to overwhelm my ears after only a few minutes.

 _This is chaos_.

With a low click that startles me, the locks on all the doors snap open. I glance out my window, spotting Nine as he makes his way through the throngs of people towards the truck. I lift my gaze to the towering, black building he'd just exited—the John Hancock Center.

 _Hell no_.

"Tell me you're joking," I demand when the driver's side door opens and Nine climbs inside.

He starts the engine, his eyebrows scrunched together. "What?"

I point at the building. "That _skyscraper_ you just came out of!"

"So?" He pulls the truck out onto the busy street.

I grit my teeth. "It better not be your safe house."

He grins at me and I know instantly it is. _I swear if it's on the top floor..._

"Just wait 'til you see the view; you're gonna shit yourself," he says excitedly, turning down a less-busy street. "Top floor."

I can strangle him right now I'm so pissed.

"And the Lecture Hall..." he shakes his head, turning onto a narrow road that leads up a large spiral-like ramp. "Just wait. I swear you're gonna love it."

"What the f–"

Nine clamps my mouth shut telekinetically. "Would you just check it out first and _then_ you can start swearing at me?"

I narrow my eyes at him and send a telekinetic punch into his groin.

«Six!»

Nine's hold releases and he groans dramatically.

I lean back in my seat, crossing my arms. «He asked for it.»

"You're such a dick," he grumbles.

Quiver hops onto the centre console, her fox ears swivelled forward in curiosity. The truck crosses a short bridge at the top of the spiral-ramp and enters the adjacent black tower where the parking garage resides.

I frown. "Why is the parking garage on the fifth fucking floor?" _That's not even convenient. Just put it underground._

"It's called _luxury_ , Six," Nine replies sweetly. "A parking garage on the fifth floor is the dumbest fucking idea anyone's ever had, but when you got as much moola as the clowns who live here, nothing you spend money on makes sense."

" _You_ live here," I point out drily.

"Actually," he retorts. " _We_ live here."

I clench my hands into fists. "I'm gonna throw you out the window when we get to the top of this stupid fucking tower."

He smirks. "You're gonna need a little more training before you go around trying to break bulletproof glass," he says smugly, finally finding a spot to park the truck in.

I scoff. "You're gonna have to learn when to shut the fuck up if you think you're gonna live in the same building as me for more than a few hours."

Nine rolls his eyes and goes to remove the keys from the ignition. I beat him to it, spinning the key and floating it over to myself.

"My truck," I remind him, snatching the keys from the air with raised eyebrows.

Ears flat, Quiver watches the exchange with boredom. «Can we go?»

I can feel her exhaustion through our connection. «Can you shift into something smaller? You need to hide until we get to Nine's place.»

After a moment, the fox disappears and a tiny brown salamander sits on the console in its place.

Nine pouts, watching Quiver crawl onto my hand. "How come you got one and I didn't?"

"She was my Cêpan's best friend. She was with her for the invasion and helped us reach the ship." I unzip a small pocket on my backpack and let her inside. "I don't remember if any others made it."

He yawns and opens his door. "Cool."

I swing the bag onto my shoulders and hop out of the truck as well. Nine grabs his own bag from the backseat.

"You can bring those up, too," he says, referring to the duffel bag of guns my Cêpan had kept hidden under the backseat. "Never have enough firepower."

«He's right,» Quiver agrees.

I grab the flamethrower I used earlier and stuff it into the bag before zipping it back up and hauling it out. Arms full, I swing the door shut and lock the truck with my telekinesis. Though I have to remind myself I'll have to be more cautious with my Legacies now that we're in the city, constantly surrounded by people and cameras.

Nine's leaning on the truck's tailgate waiting for me, his backpack slung over one shoulder. He grins with excitement when I appear with the rest of our supplies. "Alright, let's go."

He leads the way through the parking garage, lit by sporadic placements of fluorescent lights along the roof. A fair amount of the cars parked here look as if they haven't been driven in days, either sporting a fine layer of dust or a tarp covering. It's quiet, too. Far enough away from the ruckus of Chicago that I almost forget where we are.

Nine glances over his shoulder at me. "I already talked to the guys at security while you were asleep so we're all set–Oh fuck."

"What?"

"You need an alias."

 _Oh yeah_. "I hate aliases," I grumble.

"Hang on." He sidesteps between two parked cars to reach an elevator, pressing the up arrow and waiting anxiously. When the doors finally open, he rushes in and pushes the button for floor 99. I follow him inside, watching as he enters a code on a keypad beneath the extensive rows of floor numbers. The doors slide closed and we begin to shoot upwards.

"Private entrance," he says, wiggling his eyebrows. "So, your name is Rachel, you pass as eighteen so you're graduated, moved here from Minnesota, parents are dead, no siblings, we met on the plane and you needed a place to stay so I graciously offered." He grins at my displeased eye roll. "Ennis, My Cêpan, is my uncle—dad's side. He teaches English abroad—turns out people pay loads to learn this stupid language. Right now he's in Brazil. I came back here because I gotta catch up on school and he's thinking of staying anyway. My name's Daniel Morriston, my dad's white, mom's Chinese. They're both dead. No siblings. I take school online." He spreads his hands out. "Got it?"

I nod.

"What's your name?"

I use the first last name that pops into my head. "Rachel Hughes. I look eighteen?"

He grimaces. "Not really. But it's easier than saying you're sixteen and explaining guardianship as an orphan and all that."

 _Good point_.

I feel the elevator come to a gradual stop and hoist the duffel bag of firearms over my shoulder. The doors glide open directly into a dark apartment. The brilliance pouring off the surrounding city and through the floor-to-ceiling windows provides just enough light to discern the shapes of furniture and placement of walls.

Nine inhales deeply and steps inside. "Man, it's so good to be back here." He reaches a hand along the wall and the lights lining the roof slowly come to life, revealing plush leather couches and recliners, a flat-screen tv, enormous abstract paintings, and white. Everything was white; the furniture, the walls, the roof, even the area rug atop the hardwood floor. The trim, however, was strangely gold, making the place appear even more luxurious.

Vases of Cala lilies are centred atop just about every empty surface, and if not for the dust coating atop everything it looks as if Nine never left this place—that he's just returning from a late evening.

"Tell me you don't own this whole floor."

"If I didn't, it wouldn't be much of a penthouse, would it?" He tosses his bag onto a leather recliner by the windows. "I own the one above it, too." He grins at me over his shoulder. "Top two floors, baby."

 _Who needs two whole floors?_

"You can let your beast out, now. All the cameras in here are on a private network so we're clear."

 _Of course he has a private network. I bet he has access to half the cameras in the city_ _, too_ _._ I drop the duffel bag of weapons to the floor and swing my backpack off my shoulders.

«You can come out, now.»

«Thank Lorien.» The salamander crawls out of the open pouch and turns into a gyrfalcon, gliding through the room on silent wingbeats. «This is very nice.»

I drop the bag on the floor as well. «No kidding.»

Quiver banks wide and comes around to land on my shoulder, taking care to ensure her talons don't puncture my skin. She mustn't want to land on any of the furniture and risk ruining it.

Nine points a finger at the Chimæra. "Don't wreck any of the furniture. We're only allowed cats and I told security it's just the two of us."

Her wings brush my face and neck as she flares her feathers at him, bristling at the hidden accusation. But Nine's busy looking out the window.

I approach the glass beside him, looking out over the Chicago skyline. It's all bright lights and smoggy yellow air, but something about it strikes a chord in me that causes my chest to tighten with excitement and awe. It's so _different_...so _new_.

"I'll give you the grand tour tomorrow," he says with a yawn. "I think there's, like, ten rooms to choose from on this floor. They all should have their own bathrooms, a few of them might have a window seat. I dunno, you can pick one."

 _Ten rooms on_ this _floor?_

Nine must be thinking the same thing as me. "I know, there's a lot. I think when he was buying this place Ennis must've known this is where we would eventually come together, you know? I think he knew." He smiles sadly out at the bright city. "Wish he was here to see it, though."

After a moment, he clears his throat and turns away from the view. "Help yourself to some food if you're hungry—we got frozen pizzas you can nuke in the microwave. Give the fridge a wide berth, though." He grabs his backpack from the chair he tossed it onto and shouts back at me as he heads to the next room. "Get your beauty sleep, Six!" He calls "We got lots of shit to do tomorrow!"

I roll my eyes and return my gaze to the view outside the windows, just once more while I can still believe that up here, we might be safe.

\- – § – -

 **AN: FINALLY they're in Chicago! I'm so glad they're out of that stupid truck lmao but I've also never been in any sort of skyscraper or a city even close to the size of Chicago so my descriptions of the penthouse and Chicago will probably be super inaccurate.**

 **From here, Nine and Six are gonna train before heading out to find the others. Though it won't be for a while, I'm really excited to start introducing all the new characters and I'm hoping this will help me to keep writing and releasing chapters more often!**

 **Guys my summer has been a total bust so far lmao it hasn't stopped raining since school ended. there was an emergency weather warning today and there's been a tornado warning for days I have not seen the sun in weeks lol there are only two good months of warmth in Canada, sometimes three, this year there _might_ be one. I'm crying lol I gotta wait until next freaking year to feel my toes**


	12. - 8 -

𝟼

* * *

"And _this_ is the Lecture Hall." Nine pushes the door open with his telekinesis and walks inside.

Quiver caws her approval and hops off my shoulder to fly freely through the large, open space. It's the size of a gym, high-ceilinged and tiled—floor, ceiling and walls—with white panels. On the other end of the long room is what appears to be a cockpit.

Nine nudges my arm with his elbow, grinning. "Pretty sweet, huh?"

Unable to deny it, I nod and sip the green protein smoothie Nine made for breakfast. So far, he's given us a tour of the lower floor, which is pretty straightforward with a living room, kitchen, laundry room, and half a million bedrooms and bathrooms. Now, we're being shown around the higher floor, which looks pretty similar until we reach the Lecture Hall and realize this floor of the penthouse is far from normal.

Before I can say anything, he lays a hand on my shoulder and my stomach flips before I can prepare myself to teleport.

Nine releases me, not missing a beat. He disappears again and reappears in the cockpit's chair in front of me, holding his arms out wide. "This is the Lectern," he announces, spinning the chair in a circle. Before him is a u-shaped control panel of buttons, screens, levers, dials and a keyboard that must control some sort of mechanics within the Lecture Hall. Whatever it does, it looks high tech enough to send excitement rocketing through me.

Nine ruins that excitement a second later.

"It's not functional at the moment, but it will be."

I frown and scan the Lectern's extensive array for any damage. "It looks fine," I protest.

He waves his hand and stands from his seat. "Internal shit, it shouldn't take long to fix. Check this out."

Quiver lands carefully on my shoulder. «I like this place.»

Reluctantly, I agree. «It's pretty cool.»

I watch Nine head over to a big metal door in the wall behind the Lectern, like a vault. I memorize the code he enters on a panel in the wall. With a loud metallic clang, something within the wall moves—some sort of extreme locking mechanism. _What the hell is in there?_

Anxiously, I watch him spin the heavy wheel on the door and pull it open.

The shelves inside are filled with so many weapons I have to stop and take a second look just to get an idea of how _many_ there are. Guns, knives, explosives, even swords. The amount of ammunition covering the expanse of one wall looks as if it could supply an army. _Us,_ I realize. _We're the army._

"You can put your stuff in here, too," he adds, referring to my meager supply of firearms. "If you want." He steps inside and pulls something off one of the shelves, hidden in a canvas beg behind stacks of ammunition boxes. His Inheritance chest.

He must think my hiding spot back in Louisiana was ludicrous compared to _this_.

"How did you get all this, anyway?"

He smirks. "Internet. And before you lose your panties, Ennis was _very_ careful. If he wasn't, the Mogs would've found this place years ago."

I narrow my eyes with a frown. "Won't the whole Hancock Center hear you messing around with this shit?"

"Nope. There's an entire soundproofed-floor between this place and the closest any humans can get to us. Trust me, the penthouse is decked with some serious insulation. Just don't use any explosives."

 _Obviously_. I sip my smoothie, trying to ignore the combined taste of three nasty protein powders Nine threw in it. He must think differently, though, as he chugged his before we even finished the tour of the first floor.

Nine closes the weapons room's heavy door and locks it before continuing the tour, teleporting us to the Lecture Hall's exit. Back in the hallway, he swings the door closed telekinetically and sets his chest on a tall, slim table before heading down the hall.

"These are all bedrooms," he says, gesturing to the closed doors lining the walls in between paintings and sideboards topped with vases of Cala lilies. "They all have connected bathrooms, I think. They should. One of these is another laundry room, too. Can't remember which. _This_ ," he stops in front of the door at the end of the hall, "is super cool."

Something in the wall shifts suddenly, no less extreme than the weapons room's security mechanism, and I realize Nine unlocked it with his telekinesis.

He grins, clearly proud of the surprised expression on my face. "We were gonna do a retinal scan, but Ennis figured it'd be more secure if it can only be unlocked with telekinesis."

"But how...?"

Nine points to one of the sideboards in the hallway. "There's a biometric scanner on the bottom of that table's drawer and a retinal scan in that light switch."

Dumbfounded, I follow his finger to a light switch on the wall next to said sideboard. "That seems like a lot of trouble just to unlock a door."

He shrugs. "I was usually with him so he hardly ever used it. Biometrics are almost impossible to crack, but too easy for the Mogs to get through force, all they gotta do is knock us unconscious and boom, they got the key inside. That's why Ennis was the only one with his prints in the system, he needed some way to get in if I wasn't around."

This is really starting to freak me out. "What the hell is in there that's so important?"

"Everything." He pushes the door open.

The light from within the hallway falls inside the dark room, illuminating dozens of computers and monitors. Nine flicks the lights on, allowing me to see the shelves covering the walls, filled with boxes and items that aren't already piled on the floor in neat stacks. The entire back wall is covered in darkened screens, the desk in front of it littered with paper and keyboards and an old coffee mug. It's by far the most disorganized room in the penthouse.

"This is the surveillance room," Nine declares. "To access anything on the computer hard drives, you need an eyeball."

 _What?_

I watch him approach one of the shelving units, pushing aside a few cardboard boxes. The wall space he uncovers has a small hole in it as if someone hammered a nail in then decided to remove it. Though I seriously doubt it's a nail hole.

He leans forward, turning his head slightly and widening his eye. I catch a line of blue light skim over his eye. Then the room fills with the familiar hum of electricity and computer fans and all at once, the screens light up.

"Please tell me the computers don't need a password," I grumble, beginning to grow tired of all the security measures.

"Nah." He moves the boxes back to conceal the tiny retinal scanner within the wall. "Computer passwords are so easy to crack they're basically useless, especially against the Mogs."

 _Thank Lorien_.

Nine slides into the leather swivel chair parked in front of the large desk and scoots forward, his hands falling on the nearest keyboard. "On top of having every single camera in the penthouse on a private network controlled _only_ from within _this room,_ we got access to every camera throughout the entire John Hancock Center."

The screens and monitors switch from their blank white states to display real-time feeds from all over the tower. From people milling about on the street just outside the front door, to the fancy restaurant on the thirtieth floor.

 _Holy shit._ "Seriously?"

"Of course. _And_ , we got eyes all across the city, thanks to the local police department's weak-ass security system," he smirks. "Took Ennis _five minutes_ to hack into their system."

I ignore his blatant bragging and instead focus on the possibilities this incredible system provides—all the things we can do with it. But something tells me these security feeds aren't the only useful things hidden within these hard drives.

Nine reads my expression. "When they're on, the computers are set up to constantly scan the internet for anything that might relate to us or the Mogs. If there's a hit, the landline phones in the penthouse go off."

I nod. "Cool." My Cêpan had to manually search for that stuff. We'd never stay in one spot long enough for her to set something like this up. Usually, she'd ditch her computer every few months anyway. _Just in case_.

"Also, everything that's confirmed to be about us is stored in a file, along with all the last known locations of all the Loric on Earth, and everything Ennis remembered from Lorien and Mogadore that might help us." On the nearest screen, Nine pulls up an overview of all the files Ennis had left saved. He scrolls through them aimlessly, the words blurring endlessly together.

"He's got tons of his own software on here, too. Like for making fake IDs, passports, that kinda stuff." He waves a hand at the shelves of boxes. "He's got a forgery kit somewhere in there, but this software's way better, trust me."

Curious, I turn my attention to all the boxes. "What's in all of them?"

Realizing I'm no longer standing over his shoulder, Nine spins the chair around to see what I'm talking about. "Oh," he muses. "I dunno, he never really labelled any. He always knew where everything was." He stands from the chair and grabs the nearest cardboard box off a shelf. Prying the lid off, he looks inside with a bored expression. "I think most of it's just paperwork—receipts and shit." He holds the box up. "These are all the payments for this place." He places the lid back on the box and shoves it back onto the shelf. "Probably nothing cool in them, but you can look, if you want. Actually, you might find some weird tech. Ennis did some experiments on my pendant once; used this weird scanner and shit."

Quiver scans the shelves. «We should look through them.»

«Later.»

"So," Nine spins back around, beginning to rapidly type something on the keyboard, "let's get you in the system before I forget." He has me scan both my eyes using the same device hidden in the wall, then gives me complete access to the surveillance room's hard drives. He then goes over all the different codes and passwords used throughout the penthouse and shows me how to unlock the surveillance room with my telekinesis. It takes a few tries, but eventually, I can do it without his guidance.

"And that concludes the tour," Nine announces, once I finish locking the door one last time. "Cleaning ladies should be done with downstairs by now, so we can head down, grab a snack and chill." He grins and starts down the hall. " _Damn_ it feels good to say that."

Despite her not saying anything, I can feel Quiver's tense displeasure. And I know with a sinking heart that even though all I want to do is lay on one of those leather couches in front of the windows and fall asleep, I shouldn't; I can't. _We_ can't. I've been dreading this moment since walking into that house back in Louisiana.

I force the words from my mouth. "We should inventory our chests, first."

I'm watching Nine for his reaction, just about missing the stiff hesitation in his next step. The muscles in his arms flex, and I'm not surprised when all I get in response is a nod.

He snatches his chest off the sideboard when he walks past, continuing past the kitchen and living room to the elevator.

I haven't even been able to touch my chest since throwing it in my backpack yesterday morning. How the hell can I bring myself to open it? I wish with all my heart that I can take back my words—go back in time.

After so long spent wishing I could turn back time, I already know there are no do-overs, no second chances. But I never stop wishing.

\- – § – -

 **AN: Thank Lorien this didn't take nearly as long as usual to update. I've been waiting so long to tour Nine's penthouse that this chapter came much easier, even though it's boring af. I'm hoping that since the next chapter will involve their Inheritances it won't take long either, but no promises lol I have a few cool items planned**

 **So I spent two days at a lake and I got so many mosquito bites it borderline looks like I have the measles lmao. AND I'm going to ANOTHER lake in a few more days, so hopefully I don't become anemic. The drive will be hella long so I'm hoping to spend that time catching up on updating all my stories!**

 **Hope you guys liked this chapter! :)**


	13. - 9 -

𝟼

* * *

Nine pounds his fist impatiently on the bathroom door.

"Hey, Six!" He shouts. "You takin' a shit in there, or what!?"

His yelling barely registers in my head. But Quiver manages to squeeze her way in.

«Six?»

I blink, my vision coming into focus. «Go away.»

The spider crawls inside the bathroom from under the door, then turns into a rusty fox. «You don't have to do this,» she says.

I scoff and return my gaze to the Inheritance chest resting on the countertop—the heavy, keyless padlock on its front. «That's bullshit. You know I do.»

She falls silent.

«It's been over two weeks,» I continue. «Nine's Cêpan died a few _days_ ago.» _He's willing to do this. I should be too_.

Nine calls my name from somewhere in the penthouse.

"Okay!" I yell back. He's been pestering me about 'getting this over with' ever since I brought it up earlier.

I stare grimly at my chest, last-minute debating whether I should tell Nine I'm too tired or his smoothie this morning made me sick or something.

 _Stop. Just get this over with._

Taking a deep breath, I step forward and grab my chest off the countertop. Quiver quickly moves out of the way so I can unlock the door and leave the bathroom. I keep my mind focused on moving my feet and nothing else. Not even the heavy chest in my arms, or what opening it will mean.

I find Nine waiting for me in the living room. He's sprawled on a couch, one hand buried inside the open bag of potato chips sitting on his stomach while his chest resides on the floor next to him.

"'Bout time," he grumbles, sitting up and tossing the bag of chips onto the recently-dusted coffee table.

I ignore his comment and place my chest on the floor, taking a seat next to it with my legs crossed. Quiver lays down in the space between the two of us to help identify objects in our Inheritance. Even though she was quick to point out her unfamiliarity in this particular department, she's the only one of us who remembers anything about Lorien.

Nine sits on the floor as well, spinning his chest toward him to unlock it. I have to make a conscious effort to keep my hands from shaking when I look down at mine.

She told me when I developed my telekinesis that it can only be opened by the two of us. And only, she made sure to mention, while she lived. After that, I can open it without her. The Charm ensures this for each Garde and their Inheritance.

Nine knows this as well because he's fixing his chest with a mixed expression of sorrow and fear.

Neither of us saw or Cêpans die. Neither of us has that confirmation—that finality. All I saw were her bloodstains when I returned with Nine for my chest.

 _This_ right here will be our confirmation.

Quiver remains silent, lowering her head to rest on her paws. This will tell her as well as me if our best friend is dead or held captive by the Mogadorians.

My eyes settle on Nine. He looks up, his brown irises filled with dread. I hold his gaze for a moment, trying to convey my empathy and lend him strength. In return, he offers me a tight smile before wrapping his hand around his chest's padlock.

I do the same, slipping my hand behind the large metal lock so it rests in my palm and curling my fingers closed around it.

The locks snap open with a low _click_.

For a minute, there's only silence. That's all I hear.

Staring at the unlocked padlock, the world is silent and my mind has fallen still.

«She's gone.»

Quiver's anguish seeps through our connection with her reply. «Yes.»

 _She's gone._

Slowly, I notice Nine lifting the lid to peer inside.

A reminiscent smile spreads across his face and he reaches in, extracting a small silver pipe that makes him grin excitedly. "Hell yeah," he says. "The Elders sure got one thing right when they decided to throw this bad-boy in here."

I raise an unimpressed eyebrow. "What the Hell is it?" The last thing I expect the Garde to be excited about is this small section of ordinary pipe. There must be something else to it.

Nine snaps his wrist and the pipe expands into a six-foot-long, glowing red staff sharpened to a deadly point on both ends. It just narrowly misses impaling the leg of the coffee table.

 _Yep._ I roll my eyes. "Figured you wouldn't get excited about something that couldn't kill a Mog," I muse, reluctantly lifting the lid of my chest.

I've only opened it twice before: once right after I developed my telekinesis and again when we moved to Louisiana before we had to hide it. On both occasions, the only objects my Cêpan had decided to explain—along with the workings and purpose of my Inheritance—were the mass amounts of assorted gems and stones from Lorien and the jar of coal-like beads. Though as my gaze lands on a dull blue crystal peaking from beneath the gems, I recall her mentioning the importance of the object, as it would 'help us find the others when the time comes.'

Since that time is obviously now, I pull it out and hold it in my palm curiously, waiting for something to happen. When it shows no signs of changing, I toss it back in my chest with a frown.

"No wonder this thing's so damn heavy; they put a fucking boulder in here!"

I look up as Nine lifts a large, flat, black rock as evidence, his face a mask of annoyance and disbelief.

"It's not even that big," I protest, taking the smooth rock from his hands. It weighs a fair amount, but nothing drastic enough to be considered a _boulder,_ especially by someone of Nine's strength.

Quivers lifts her head up, ears swivelled forward. She must recognize it. «That's not a boulder,» she says. «I think that's a healing stone.»

"A healing stone?"

Nine looks up, his brow creased. "Huh?"

"On Lorien, they were used a lot to heal wounds," I explain, relaying her words out loud. "But it really hurts to use."

He frowns. "That's stupid."

Even though he's no longer looking at me, I still glare at him. "No," I argue sternly, "it's useful." I hand it back to him and he floats it into his chest without looking up.

"This is the only thing I know how to use," I admit, pulling the jar of beads out to present them.

Nine keeps digging through his chest. "What are they?" He sounds completely uninterested.

"Explosives."

Instantly, his head snaps up and he stares at the little beads in excitement. "What's the blast radius?"

"My Cêpan told me it's about fifty-seven feet, but I've never actually tested it."

His jaw drops. "Holy shit," he says. "Those things are _deadly_. How do they work?"

"Just gotta blow on them before you throw it. After that, they'll go off as soon as they hit something." I tilt the jar, watching them tumble and clink against the glass. "They're harmless until our breath activates them. Pretty sure they only react to us, too. So the Mogs can't use them against us."

He whistles appreciatively. "Gotta make sure we bring some of those the next time we head out."

I pause my analysis of the beads. "When's that?"

He shrugs. "I dunno. After a few weeks of training, at least. What the _fuck_ is this?" He lifts a heavy-looking velvet pouch from within his chest. He shakes it experimentally, resulting in sounds like clinking glass. "Did the Elders give _me_ all the heavy shit, or what?"

"Open it," I suggest, returning the jar of beads to my chest and extracting a strange, oval stone. It fits comfortably in my palm, its surface smooth and sky blue with wispy white patches like clouds.

Nine loosens the drawstring and upends the bag over the rug we sit on. Seven glass orbs slide out, clinking against one another in an odd symphony. When they do nothing, Nine leans his face down to inspect them closely.

He narrows his eyes at them. "You think these things explode, too?"

«I can't tell if he's joking,» Quiver says.

«Probably not,» I reply dryly, placing the oval stone on the ground next to me.

Nine inhales and blows on the ping-pong-sized orbs. They start glowing almost instantly.

"Oh, shit." Nine backs away quickly and I realize the orbs are _moving_ as well, as if his breath brought them to life.

I lean forward and narrow my eyes as they begin spinning and circling one another while rising off the ground.

"Is that you?" Nine demands.

I scoff at the accusation. "No. Put on your big-girl panties and chill out, if they were dangerous they wouldn't be sitting in a pretty velvet bag."

Nine mimicks me using an irritating, high-pitched voice. _"If they were dangerous–"_

Quiver sits up and growls at us: a clear message to shut up and focus.

The orbs hover a foot or so above the floor. The one in the centre has a golden glow and is the only stationary one. The others slowly circle the centre orb in increasingly large distances while maintaining a constant rotation on their own invisible axes.

The Chimæra's eyes are sharp on one of the grey orbs. «That's Lorien.»

"What?"

Nine looks up at me, confused. "What?"

"Are you sure?"

The fox stands up and steps closer to the hovering arrangement of orbs. «Yes. This is our solar system.»

All at once, the orbs start glowing brighter and speeding up their orbits. Each of them begins to crash into the centre orb, causing it to grow and shine brighter until they've all combined to form one huge orb so bright we have to look away.

Gradually, the light dims to a faint glow, allowing us to see the basketball-sized replica of Earth floating before us.

Nine exhales forcefully. "Okay," he says. "That's Earth." Like it needs to be spoken aloud for him to believe it.

 _What is this thing?_ _Why would Lorien's solar system randomly turn into a planet that's not even in it?_

"What's that dot?" Nine asks as if I should know.

"What dot?"

"Wait, there's two of them," he continues, looking closely at the planet's surface as it rotates on its axis. "It looks like they're here. In Chicago."

 _What?_ Then I notice a blue dot in Europe. I look closer. "There's another one in England, I think."

"What the hell is this thing?" Nine demands. "It can't be us, can it? There's seven of us left and this thing only has three. But check out those dots, they're literally _right_ where we are."

When Earth rotates around I see for myself that the two dots he's talking about are in fact right on top of us. _It can't be a coincidence._

«Six.»

Nine curses. "The one in England just disappeared!"

«Six, your chest.»

 _My chest?_ I look down. The crystal that was once dull blue is now glowing a bright red. Without thinking, I grab it. It's warm in my hand and causes a tingly sensation.

"Hey, this thing–" I stop immediately when the Earth blurs and I hear my voice echo back.

His eyes wide, Nine stares at me and the crystal in my hand. "Say something again."

The crystal feels hot in my palm. "This is really weird."

The orb blurs again as my words emanate from it a half-second later.

Nine starts laughing, and I have to wait for him to stop before receiving an explanation.

"It's a communication device," he says. "We can talk to them."

\- – § – -

 **AN: I mentioned this on my other stories and now I'm gonna say it here: I can't even begin to express how sorry I am. I've been neglecting this story along with all my others for way too long. Chapters have been coming along so slowly and I've been blaming it on writer's block, which is still true to some extent, but it's also because I haven't really been _trying_ to write anything. I've just been waiting for inspiration to hit me instead of sitting at my computer and telling myself I need to write. I finally started working on my writer's block, but procrastinated by making all new covers and posters for some of my stories before finally telling myself I had to write this. Hence why it's lowkey shitty lol.**

 **Anyway, I just want to tell everyone that I'm going to start _really_ trying now. I'm taking this year off of school and I'm gonna be working almost full time (I had my first ever interview yesterday and I just about DIED) but I'm gonna try to spend all my free time writing. Pinky swear.**

 **Now that that's out of the way, I want to apologize for making this chapter so long and boring lmao somehow I didn't even manage to get through all the items in their chests. But don't worry! They'll finish with that in the next chapter!**

 **OKay I think those are all my apologies for now lol**

 **GUYS THE AMOUNT OF RESEARCH I PUT INTO THIS CHAPTER IS UNBELIEVABLE**

 **I want to let you all know that I've spent the last THREE DAYS flipping through all my Lorien Legacies books looking for a better description of the pipe-staff because the iamnumberfour wiki says it has rotating blades and im like? what? and the 'rotating blades' are only mentioned like once or twice before it's destroyed in tFoF so I still don't really understand what it looks like**

 **And also trying to figure out how the macrocosm and red crystal work because the wiki gives a pretty good description but leaves a bunch of stuff out so I had to go through all my books for more info and i dont actually have the first book for some reason, I just read the one from my school library like five years ago lmao so that didn't make my research any easier**

 **And I know the Inheritance chests are supposed to have items that like correspond to the Garde's Legacies and stuff but Marina couldn't use those glasses from her chest but Ella could so Im not exactly sure about that? Also, I didn't want to copy every single item from the books into my story so yeah idk**

 **Thank you guys so much for your patience! You're the best! :D**


	14. - 10 -

𝟼

* * *

"You think it's connected to the chests?" I ask, repeating what he just told me.

"Why else would that other dot disappear?" Nine retorts. "Close yours," he offers, nodding his chin to my open chest. "See what happens."

I do as he says, flipping the wooden lid closed.

He grins and points to the rotating replica of Earth. "See? One of them is gone."

I open it back up, causing the dot to reappear in Chicago. I sit back, staring thoughtfully at the glowing planet. "Okay," I begin. "So we can talk to them, but only if they have their chests open."

"And if they have these orbs set up," he adds. "And you don't have any, so we gotta assume only some of the others have these things." He points at the glowing crystal in my lap, "and only someone with that crystal can send a message."

I frown and glance doubtfully at Quiver. "That's not very convenient."

"Well right now it's the best we got," he says, watching the orb carefully for another dot to appear.

I chew on the inside of my cheek anxiously. «Do you know if the Mogs have access to something like this?» I ask. «If they could hack it or anything? Use it against us?»

Quiver circles a spot on the rug before laying down. «I don't know. Unless they took one from a Garde and learned to use it I think we'll be safe.»

 _Think._ We have to _know_. We can't afford to risk everything on _maybe's_.

"We should keep an eye on this thing," Nine says, using telekinesis to carefully move the orb out of our way and onto the coffee table. "Maybe send a message when someone cracks open their chest."

I nod and place the glowing crystal in my chest. "But what if the Mogs can tap it? What if they stole some orbs from One's or Two's or someone's chest and they're waiting for one of us to slip up and give our location?"

Nine shakes his head. "Always the pessimist."

"It's called being smart," I protest. "With the Charm broken, we can't afford to act on impulse anymore. We have to be a lot more careful."

He rolls his eyes. "I _know,_ okay? Chill. We won't broadcast our location yet."

I sigh and pick up the weird stone I'd forgotten about. "Just don't send any messages without me."

«Recognize this?» I hold it out for Quiver to inspect.

She sniffs it. «No. But it's moving.»

 _Moving?_ After watching it for a while, I notice the wispy white and grey patches _are_ moving; like clouds across the sky.

 _Wait a minute_.

I lift my head and look across the room, through the windows that make up the outside wall. Outside, the sun is shining on the clouds that dot the bright blue sky. I hold up the stone, comparing it to the sky outside. But there's nothing to compare it to. They're _exactly the same_.

Nine's watching me, waiting for an explanation.

"It's a perfect replica of the sky outside," I say, tossing it to him.

He catches it, turns it over in his hands and glances between its surface and the window.

"Weird," he says, throwing it back to me. "What do you think this does?" He extracts a small yellow cube from his chest, resting it in his palm to show us.

«Sustenance, I believe.»

My eyebrows knit together. "Quiver thinks it's _sustenance?_ I dunno."

"You sure?" He squeezed the cube doubtfully. "This thing's rock solid. And if it's food don't you think the Elders would've packed a whole pallet of these things?"

"She says it makes you feel full when you put it in your mouth. Just don't bite it."

"Oh." He tosses the cube in the air, regarding it with interest. "Sounds weird. I kinda wanna try it, though."

I shrug and remove a large, ivory hunting horn from under some jewels. "Do it."

"What's that?"

"Dunno." I show it to Quiver, who's equally as perplexed. I set it aside as Nine shoves the cube into his mouth.

His eyebrows furrow and he spits it back out after a moment, a strange expression on his face. "That's _really_ weird."

"Useful, though. How come I have so many more jewels than you? I thought all the Garde got a bunch of them." At least that's what my Cêpan told me.

"We sold them," Nine says, sliding a clear, glass ring onto his finger. "Gotta pay for all this shit somehow." He stares at the ring and wiggles his fingers, shakes his hand, trying to make something happen.

A bundle of feathers coloured different shades of brown, black and white is tucked in the corner in a corner of my chest, utterly mundane among the collection of bright stones and unusual items. I carefully move them out of the way, uncovering a pair of silver stud earrings, a tiny blue stone inlaid in each.

I pick them up curiously, remembering a time long ago when I was young and had wanted nothing more than to have my ears pierced.

"Turns out the Elders thought we'd both need some jewelry," Nine jokes. Ignoring him, I toss the earrings back in and reach for a glowing red and orange stone. I stop myself from touching it when I feel the scorching heat it gives off. I lift it out using telekinesis and offer it to Nine.

"Touch it."

"No," he says. "Hell no. That shit looks _hot_."

"It is. I can feel the heat without touching it. You think if I threw it at a Mog it'd be hot enough to kill it?"

"Maybe. I don't know. Just get it away from my face."

Only when I float the stone back into my chest does Nine take his eyes off of me and return to his Inheritance.

"Hey, I got a weird-looking rock with a heartbeat," he announces, producing a mottled rock from his chest with raised eyebrows. "Anybody know why this thing has a _heartbeat?_ "

"Maybe that's your heart," I suggest sarcastically.

"Ha ha, 'heart of stone,' very funny," he mutters.

I smile to myself and lift out what appears to be some sort of grip. The black item consists solely of a curved piece of metal with finger grooves and a loose string drawn between either end. It fits comfortably in my hand, the metal perfectly formed.

"What the hell is that?" Nine asks, holding something small.

"I have no idea."

"Switch?"

I grin and throw it to him, catching the small, purple pebble from him.

I uncurl my fingers and only have a moment to look at it resting in my palm before it sinks into my skin, making my whole hand turn numb and unfeeling.

"What the fuck?" I borderline panic and turn my hand over, watching as the stone reappears on the back of my hand and the numbness disappears.

"What?"

«Are you okay?»

I pick it up, holding the pebble between my fingers. "This thing just went _right through_ my hand."

A grin spreads across Nine's face. "No way. Do it again."

I drop it into my palm and hold it out for him and Quiver to watch. Once again, it disappears through my hand only to reappear on the other side.

«Does it hurt?» She asks.

"It makes my whole hand go numb."

Nine is absolutely psyched. "Dude, that's fuckin' sweet." He grabs it from me and holds it in his palm, waiting for the same thing to happen. "What the fuck?" He demands. "Why does _my_ Inheritance only work for _you?_ "

I shrug and continue digging through the piles of jewels for anything else. "Maybe I'm special."

He scoffs and keeps fiddling with the strange item from my Inheritance.

At the very bottom, I find a collection of metal rods tied together, each tipped on one end with sharp, shining metal, and on the other with three, thin metal vanes spaced evenly around the rod's circumference.

 _They look like mini arrows_. The moment I pull the rods free of the chest, each of them simultaneously grows longer until they no longer look like mini arrows—they look like _real_ arrows.

 _Holy shit_.

"Nine, give me that." He hands it to me with a sigh, clearly having given up on it.

I take the grip in my hand excitedly and hold it a safe distance from him and Quiver before snapping my wrist forward. In an instant, the grip wraps itself around my hand like liquid metal and limbs shoot out from both ends, pulling the string taut to form a recurve bow in a split second.

I shoot Nine a triumphant grin.

"You got a diamond-bladed bow?" He cries. " _And_ arrows? No fair!"

\- – § – -

 **AN: I was very excited to write this chapter, which is why it's being released so soon after the last update lol I really wanted to show you guys the rest of their Inheritance and also get this show on the road already because I cannot wait for these two to meet the rest of the Garde! I'm really considering just skipping the next three weeks in the penthouse so I can get to the part where they meet the others lmao just make it one huge time skip. But I won't because I feel like I should try at least a little bit to get into their training and I obviously plan on adding a few important things in so I can't skip it lol**

 **Anyways, I'm sorry for another boring chapter but I'm hoping it wasn't too bland because we did get to see a few new items including Six's diamond-bladed bow and arrows which I'm extremely pumped about! Idc if it's dumb or unrealistic or has nothing to do with the Loric culture or whatever. I was running out of ideas and I wanted her to have a badass weapon that wasn't just a copy of Four's dagger or anyone else's weapon from the books and I came up with this. At first, I was thinking it would expand like Hawkeye's bow from the first Avengers but then I figured the Loric are super advanced and wouldn't have something like that if they have the technology to make something like Nine's staff so then I came up with that**

 **Thank you guys for being so patient with me and this story, I appreciate it tons! You're the best!**


	15. - 11 -

𝟼

* * *

The arrow sinks into the target up to its vanes, a few inches shy of the center.

I hear the door swing open behind me as Nine enters the Lecture Hall. "You're gonna have to do a lot better than that if you wanna kill Mogs," he points out after a moment. I clench my jaw and lower my bow, turning to face him with an irritated expression.

"If you're here to piss me off again I'm gonna use you for target practice," I warn. Quiver swoops by, dropping my arrow from her talons. I catch it with my telekinesis and lower it to the ground with the others beside me.

He shrugs and throws a hand toward my bow. "Just wanted to see if you were getting any better with that thing. Oh, and I also wanted to let you know that I invited some girls over, so if you could stay on this floor–"

"Tell me you're joking."

Nine grins.

"Are you fucking _kidding_ me!?" I demand. "You're _such_ an idiot! We're supposed to be hiding! Not sleeping with some dumb humans because we're bored! We can't get distracted, Nine! We have to be ready to find the others as soon as we can! We can't waste time and we sure as hell can't risk the exposure! The Hell's wrong with you!? They could be Mog spies for all you know!"

He starts laughing and I almost can't believe the nerve of him.

"Holy shit," he says, "I mean, I knew you'd be pissed but _damn_ , Six, you look like you're gonna kill me."

I raise my bow and swing it at him without hesitation, its sharp, diamond-bladed edge aimed straight at him. Nine teleports, reappearing a few feet away still laughing.

"Ah, shit," he presses a hand to his shoulder, annoyed. "You wrecked my favourite shirt."

"You have eight other white t-shirts," I growl, prepared to lunge at him. "You have one minute to cancel with those girls before I wreck your face, next."

Nine grins like a maniac again. "I was messing with you," he says, glancing at the blood now staining his hand. He rolls his shoulders and flexes his fingers. "I was hoping it'd piss you off enough to start a fight—been wondering how long it'd take me to kick your ass."

 _Is he serious?_ I shake my head, disgusted. "If you don't get out of my face right now I _will_ kill you."

He throws his arms out wide in offering. "Give it your best shot."

I glare at him, turning over the idea in my head. My gaze flickers to Quiver, perched on the head of a Mogadorian dummy. «Get the healing stone.»

Her head cocks in surprise. «This is not a good idea,» she advises. «You should not let your anger out on him.»

«Well he gave it to me,» I argue. «Now he's gonna get it back.»

Nine glances between the two of us, not bothering to hide his confusion regarding our silent conversation. "What the hell's going on?"

"I told her to grab the healing stone so I can kick your ass twice."

He laughs, hopping on the balls of his feet eagerly. "I'll let you keep the bow," he says, raising his fists. "Give you a fighting chance."

I narrow my eyes at him and collapse the recurve bow with a flick of my wrist, the metal grip receding from around my hand like liquid before solidifying again. I throw it to the ground next to my arrows and immediately start analyzing Nine despite Quiver's protests.

It occurs to me that I haven't physically fought with Nine, or even _seen_ him fight before. I have no idea how he fights—his techniques, save for brute strength.

 _Now's as good a time to learn as any._

I know he's going to teleport before he even does, so I'm able to dodge his first fist, but Quiver is diving between the two of us and flaring her wings before I can throw any of my own in return. With an enraged cry, she glides past our faces with wide-spread wings, talons open wide, yelling at me telepathically to stop.

Nine stares at me, his amber-brown eyes hard beneath drawn eyebrows. He turns his gaze to Quiver, who lands atop the training dummy once more and—despite being a bird—fixes us with a look that could kill.

She releases another shrill cry, feathers and wings flaring with fury.

Shocked, Nine mutters a curse.

«What is wrong with you!?» Quiver demands. «Fighting to release anger towards one another is _not_ a solution!»

«He started it!» I argue, though my reasoning sounds poor even to me.

«You escalated it,» she snaps back, making a noise that almost sounds like hissing. «It takes two people to fight. Tell Nine if he wants to hit something he can hit a punching bag, and if he wants to spar he can ask.»

I clench my jaw but relay the message nonetheless. Nine scoffs and rolls his eyes, and yet to my surprise he doesn't argue.

"Fine," he mumbles, crossing his arms.

Quiver settles slightly, satisfaction drifting through our connection. «Good. Now get back to work,» she orders. «And consider apologizing.»

With that, the Chimæra takes off and swings toward Nine in a manner that says 'follow me.' He glances at me for a translation.

"She wants you to try out the healing stone."

"Oh." He glances down at the bloody cut on his shoulder, then smiles at me. "That was a nice swing."

I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. "We'll spar when I don't feel like killing you."

He grins and leaves the Lecture Hall with Quiver.

My gaze falls on the target across the room, littered with puncture marks too far from the middle. _I have to do a lot better than that if I want to kill any Mogs._

I pick up my bow and an arrow and I take aim again.

\- – § – -

Nine is laying on his back on my bed when I return to my room.

 _Thank Lorien I got dressed before I walked out_.

"Can I help you?" I ask, startling him.

Nine sits up immediately. "What?"

I kneel down next to my empty closet and sift through the contents of my backpack. "What do you want?"

"Well I was hoping you'd walk out of there wearing a little less than _that_ , but –what are you doing with those?"

I can't tell if he looks more confused or concerned when I pull out the scissors.

"Cutting my hair," I reply, heading back into the bathroom with them.

"Oh," he mumbles, "uh, hey, sorry about that shit show earlier."

I lower the scissors and stare at myself in the mirror, shocked. _He apologized_.

"Me too," I say, glancing at him through the open doorway. I point the scissors at him. "But you were seriously asking for it, you know that, right?"

He grins. "Yeah. With the Lectern down I'm pretty bored around here."

I return to the mirror and begin snipping off the ends of my hair. "Why's it not working?"

He hesitates. "I broke it right before we left for Brazil." I hear his sigh carry into the bathroom. "I was stupid, trying to increase the rate of fire on this one program, but it wouldn't work and I thought if I used my telekinesis to force it, the Lectern would respond. Obviously didn't work." He laughs a little. "Ennis was pretty pissed, said he'd fix it when we got back...I've never been the best with electronics...or trying to fix anything that takes more than a few minutes of work."

I don't realize I've stopped cutting until his voice falls silent and my gaze focuses on my reflection again. "We can train without it," I offer, resuming my work.

"Yeah," he agrees, his tone regaining its usual light-heartedness. "We gotta start training if we wanna go out there and find the others."

I ruffle my hair and turn my head to check all the angles. "I still have no idea how we're gonna do that," I admit, turning on the sink to clean up.

"Yeah...that's a bit of a problem. We'll keep the orbs up and running, but it might not be a secure line. And the others might not even know how to use it."

I flick the lights off in the bathroom and walk over to my backpack, trying to think of a way to solve this impossible puzzle.

"You look the same," Nine points out drily.

"I know." I zip up my bag and stand back up, leaning against the wall. "It's called a trim. You should consider it."

He scoffs and runs a hand through his messy black hair. "This is a style and I'm fucking rocking it."

"Sure. So is there anything else you wanted to say? It's like eleven o'clock and I need to get some sleep."

Nine hops to his feet "Hell yeah you do," he agrees. "Cuz the _real_ training starts tomorrow. If you aren't in the Lecture Hall at seven with a protein shake already in your stomach I'm gonna use you for target practice."

\- – § – -

 **AN: First things first: I MADE A TRAILER**

 **THAT'S RIGHT IM QUITE PROUD OF IT TBH**

 **YOU GUYS CAN GO CHECK IT OUT, THE LINK IS IN THE SECOND CHAPTER OF THIS BOOK WHERE THE PLAYLIST USED TO BE**

 **Ok lol so I feel like there's not a whole lot I can do to make these penthouse chapters any more exciting so I'm only gonna do like two or three more each with time skips of a week or so. Does that seem too fast? My plan was three weeks of training in the penthouse before they head out to find the Garde, and if I do two or three chapters of that I'm thinking it should be enough to cover that, really all they're gonna be doing is eating, hanging out and training and nobody wants to read like ten chapters of just that lmao plus I want to introduce the others already!**

 **Thank you guys for your patience with my updating, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! :)**


End file.
